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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24457486">Luxury</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Little_Guy/pseuds/Little_Guy'>Little_Guy</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Undertale (Video Game)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Sugar Daddy, Comedy, Gen, Gender Non-Conforming Character, Platonic Relationships, Post-Undertale Pacifist Route, Queer Themes, Swapfell Papyrus (Undertale), Swapfell Sans (Undertale), Trans Male Character, Underfell Papyrus (Undertale), Underfell Sans (Undertale), Underswap Papyrus (Undertale), Underswap Sans (Undertale), but not, just stupidity and humor, no beta we die like idiots, no romance here folks - Freeform</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-05-30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-06-05</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 00:22:50</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>25,790</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24457486</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Little_Guy/pseuds/Little_Guy</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Edge was a monster of taste. Expensive taste. He didn’t enjoy cheap baubles, mass-produced items, or even things that could be deemed inconsequential. </p><p>Luckily for him, Edge had friends in high places all over, that couldn’t stand his bitching and had money to spare. </p><p>Only later do they realize to their horror that they have accidentally become <em>sugar daddies</em>.</p><p>(Aka: Sugar daddy AU where Edge is <em>not</em> a sugar baby and the others are <em>not</em> sugar daddies)</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Papyrus &amp; Papyrus (Undertale), Papyrus &amp; Sans (Undertale)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>23</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>So to start off I do want to preface this. This is not at all an accurate (or even meant to be) deception of sugaring, or in general what being a Sugar Baby is like. There are a ton of misconceptions about this 'lifestyle' as the fact is, those that actually are Sugar Babies have individual arrangements and aren't always what is depicted in media. <em>This</em> work specifically is not meant to reflect anything about being a Sugar Baby considering the italicized nots at the bottom of the summary, what this is instead is a lovingly crafted comedic work about what my partner liked to refer to as: It's Loving Edge Hours. </p><p>Well, now that that's over with, I hope you enjoy. Also, I guess as a general heads-up, there is discussions of a man being on his period and a 'feminine' nickname used, but my version of Edge is very much not bothered by it. As your not-so-local Trans man is here to spread the Trans Edge Agenda.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Like every other day during the week (the blessed, blessed week), Edge was splayed out on the couch in Blue’s (well all of theirs, really) penthouse apartment. Most would consider it odd, what with him being from a universe so different from the small-fry, but he considered it to be functional enough. The other monster was, probably (read: definitely), the only other one he could stand. Well, for longer than an hour at least.</p><p> </p><p>His thumb scrolls up as he looks over the newest items for purchase on the Yves Saint Laurent website. Their bomber jackets were quite nice in his opinion. “YOU SHOULD LOOK OVER THE LIST I SENT YOU, BLUE.” Edge says loftily, skull cushioned by his arm and the pillows, but mostly the goose-down pillows. </p><p> </p><p>There’s a huff from the desk in front of the wide glass panes on the left side of the office. Clear as the sky outside and meticulously cleaned each and every day. Blue was a good tipper. “SO YOU CAN TRY AND SWINDLE ME OUT OF MORE MONEY?” He shrugs. There’s a laugh from the desk, fond he’d even say if he weren’t in fact, Edge. Now, he knows better than all the other’s how testy Blue could really be. The boyish grin and welcoming charm only lasted so long—he had a particular talent. </p><p> </p><p>Annoying the fuck out of others. On the weekends it was making enough money to buy a house. </p><p> </p><p>“HARDLY, BABY-BLUE,” He returns evenly, sending another article of clothing the group chats way chuckling to himself in amusement when Razz’s composure finally breaks into an all-out capital yell.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> MUST YOU SEND SUCH GARISH THINGS WHILE WE’RE WORKING </em>
</p><p> </p><p>Yes, in fact he did. “I’M JUST SAYING YOU SHOULD LOOK IT OVER. YOU MIGHT LIKE SOME OF THEM, PEOPLE AS FABULOUS AS US—MORE IMPORTANTLY <em> MYSELF,” </em> Edge continues on gesturing with a hand to his chest. It gets another laugh. “SHOULD HAVE THINGS THAT WE CAN WEAR NO MATTER THE OCCASION.” </p><p> </p><p>“YOU HAVE YOUR OWN MONEY.” That was true. Edge hums noncommittally, continuing his scrolling as if it was never pointed out. There’s a sigh and then the little number next to Edge’s text goes down by one. Bingo, cash was imminent. “THIS IS THE LAST TIME, SERIOUSLY!”</p><p> </p><p>“UH HUH,” He says unconvinced. Another message flashed across his screen, the first from Razz (as always, the opportunistic bastard) and the second from Stretch, far more subdued.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Razzalicious  </em>
</p><p>I HATE YOU ALL. THIS IS THE REASON HE NEVER SPENDS HIS OWN MONEY!</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> String-bean </em>
</p><p>You realize that you can turn off caps lock ye? And it looks nice </p><p>Pls don’t make his favorite just because he gave you money</p><p> </p><p>Too late. Chilate de pollo is already on the menu</p><p>Suffer, peasants</p><p> </p><p>“EDGE.” Blue warns. All he offers back is a thumbs up, before sending the little devil emoji and ignoring, the no doubt, indignant yelling Razz was directing his way. It was always so easy to piss him off. Either they got on like a house fire or the other monster was at his throat, today it seemed that he wanted to try and tangle with the big cats. </p><p> </p><p>Speaking of that it was nearly time for him to turn this couch into the perfect napping spot, man was the surface good. </p><p> </p><p>“I CAN’T BELIEVE HOW MELLOW YOU’VE BECOME CONSIDERING YOUR WELL…” Blue waves a hand at his general direction ignoring the bristled <em> you just gestured to all of me! </em>with a practiced indifference. His hands never paused in their mark up of the plan set in front of him. “ON ONE HAND IT’S INSPIRING. YOU TRIED TO CLAW MY HEAD OFF THE FIRST TIME WE MET AND NOW YOU’RE AS DOCILE AS A HOUSE CAT. ON THE OTHER HAND USE YOUR OWN MONEY, I AM NOT YOUR PERSONAL BANK.” </p><p> </p><p>Edge just grumbles into the pillow he’s smashed his face into. “THERAPY. LOTS AND LOTS OF THERAPY.” A pause. Then, “AND I DO EVERYTHING NONE OF YOU HAVE TIME FOR. THIS IS COMPENSATION.”</p><p> </p><p>“THAT’S REALLY NOT HOW IT WORKS, BUT OKAY.”</p><p> </p><p>“IT IS ABSOLUTELY HOW IT WORKS. I DESERVE NICE THINGS FOR MY WORK, IT ISN’T MY FAULT THAT I WAS BLESSED WITH LOOKING THIS GORGEOUS.”</p><p> </p><p>“STILL NOT HOW IT WORKS.”</p><p> </p><p>“YOU’LL APPRECIATE IT LATER.” He hums ignoring the exasperated huff Blue gives him. Stretching out, very much like the cats he was compared to, Edge rubs his cheek against the downy-soft of the pillow. </p><p> </p><p>This was heaven on earth and his mind wouldn’t be changed. All these soft, expressive, and unique items made integrating into human society worth it. Of course, Edge had never lost his special touch—he could still snap as quickly as a whip when he needed to, but this wasn’t terrible by any means. </p><p> </p><p>“YOU REALIZE THAT WHILE WE SUPPORT WHAT YOU DO NONE OF US ARE INTERESTED IN WATCHING IT.”</p><p> </p><p>“OH CERTAINLY, I MEANT THAT I WOULD BE STAYING OUT OF YOUR BANK ACCOUNTS FOR A BIT.”</p><p> </p><p>“YOU HAVE A PROBLEM.” Blue deadpans, but he can hear the amusement without even looking. </p><p> </p><p>“I HAVE AN <em> APPRECIATION,” </em> Edge corrects practically purring at the soft, plushness of the couch. This was the best. He was no long the Captain of his guard, didn’t have to deal with such <em> horrendous </em>handwriting and incompetent lackeys, but he also could simply enjoy all these new opportunities at his leisure. </p><p> </p><p>“YOU DO REALIZE, THAT MOST PERSONAL ASSISTANTS DON’T GET TO SLEEP DURING WORKING HOURS RIGHT?” </p><p> </p><p>He just hums again not even bothering to answer. He was comfortable, besides it wasn’t like Blue really needed his help with anything. Edge was the only one that could cook—he did that every day, no need for him to do anymore when he didn’t need (nor want) to. Of course, he also kept the idiots from being too stupid when they all returned, so he was sure he was justified in want to enjoy a bit of free time.</p><p> </p><p>People as gorgeous as him didn’t get this way without a proper sleep schedule. His sleep schedule just imitated that of a cat’s over a monster’s. </p><p> </p><p>He hears Blue’s spine pop as he stretches in his chair. Edge didn’t understand it. He wore such terribly stuffy things, bland and stiff and Edge would throw it all in a bin with a match if he was sure he could get away with it. Unfortunately, Blue had a nose for what he liked to call: Edge’s Bullshit Phenomenon. </p><p> </p><p>A shame. Blue could be just as magnificent as him if he’d loosen up a bit. Therapy had done Edge <em> wonders.  </em></p><p> </p><p>“DO WE HAVE ANY COFFEE LEFT?”</p><p> </p><p>“‘S IN THE POT. CARAMEL VANILLA. TWO DANISHES LEFT—I GRABBED THEM BEFORE A SOCCER MOM.” His head doesn’t so much as lift when Blue pats his head, and all he gets in return for the hiss is a laugh. “DO IT AGAIN AND LOSE YOUR FINGERS.”</p><p> </p><p>“IF YOU’RE GOING TO COMPARE YOURSELF TO A CAT THEN I’M GOING TO TREAT YOU LIKE ONE.” </p><p> </p><p>“BASTARD.”</p><p> </p><p>“LOVE YOU TOO, EDGE.”</p><p> </p><p>“FUCK OFF.” </p><p> </p><p>His shoes pad against the wood of the floor as Blue pours what has to be his second cup of the day. Edge didn’t understand that either. He’d have downed the whole pot by now if he felt up to it, then again, Blue was a demon. A bonafide demon for how long he could go without wanting to break someone’s neck and Edge would never fully trust him. </p><p> </p><p>He’s seen the smiles he directed at some of the businessmen he interacted with. Absolutely horrendous. Edge was so proud. </p><p> </p><p>Wiggling a finger free from between the pillow and the couch when he hears the snap of a picture Edge grumbles out, “SEND ‘EM THAT TOO YOU BASTARD.” </p><p> </p><p>Blue snorts. “ALREADY WAY AHEAD OF YOU. MADE SURE IT WAS YOUR GOOD SIDE.”</p><p> </p><p>“EVERY SIDE IS MY GOOD SIDE.” </p><p> </p><p>Weight flops against his legs as Blue finally takes his first break of the day. People called him a workaholic (because, despite his new appreciation of naps, Edge was), but they’d never met Blue. The monster didn’t understand voluntary breaks unless he was enticed with a nice, warm mug of coffee, or physically restrained. </p><p> </p><p>Shoving at the other monster’s hip Edge slides open a socket when his phone buzzes, a rapid fire ping of notifications. He watches the first few before curling up to continue his nap of the day. Dinner was a long time from now. </p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Razzalicious </em>
</p><p>HE’S SLEEPING NOW?</p><p>BLUE! YOU INGRATE! MAKE HIM WORK!</p><p>WHAT DO WE PAY HIM FOR!</p><p> </p><p>Blue snorts at the reply, leaning over until he can get both his head and Edge’s half-hidden one in the same shot, doing a miniature cheer with his mug, showing off the: <em> best boss </em>embossed onto the side. </p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Razzalicious </em>
</p><p>I HATE ALL OF YOU!</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> String-bean </em>
</p><p>We know. Cute.</p><p>Push him off.</p><p>And risk death this early?</p><p>No. we’re going for the long game</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Pup-dog </em>
</p><p>Why don’t u get clawed to death?</p><p> </p><p>I bought him something expensive.</p><p>To shut him up</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Pup-dog </em>
</p><p>Fair</p><p> </p><p>Blue takes another sip of his coffee replying to the remaining blurbs of text from the others. Mainly cursing from Razz about letting Edge sleep, which, fair, the bastard sleeps a lot now that he actually could. But Blue quite liked his unmarred face and was willing to let the monster sleep rather than take a swipe to the face. No thank you, he did not care if it would “make him more attractive”. </p><p> </p><p>Glancing at the clock he sinks further into the couch shifting around so that Edge’s bony ass knees don’t dig into his hip. He’d wake the other monster up before one of the other’s got home. If he remembered right it was supposed to be Slim, he had the least taking job of them all—besides Edge—and usually finished quicker than the rest of them. </p><p> </p><p>It should have been odd, Blue supposed, that they all managed to get along well enough to share a place, and to a certain degree a few businesses. The gold from the Underground had been filtered in slowly, and they had plenty to spare beneath the mountain, but the reality of the situation was still funny. All of them? Civil? For more than an hour? </p><p> </p><p>He’d thought it laughable at first, but after about a year and a half, Blue could say with more than a little confidence that he was happy he met the rest of them, even if this whole cross-dimension thing was a little odd when he really thought about it. Some of them were just… so different. </p><p> </p><p>With a happy hum with his final sip Blue almost ignores the way his phone vibrates in his hand until he catches the name. Really, they should have all gone for Razzatoni over Razzalicious.</p><p> </p><p>“HOW’S LOSING TREATING YOU!” Blue chirps reclining against the couch. Earlier that week they’d all debated on who was going to meet with Mr. Kansbren about hosting a charity event—which none of them really wanted to go to, but alas—to help cultivate interest in the man’s newest venture. </p><p> </p><p>Normally, charity was something they’d be onboard with, but unfortunately Mr. Kansbren had a nasty habit of pocketing funds for himself. So, of course, they’d dealt with who would interact with the man like adults. They pulled straws. </p><p> </p><p>“FUCKING TERRIBLE.” Razz hisses and if they were video chatting, Blue is certain he’d see a pulsing vein on the other monster’s skull, despite them not having any. His grin widens. Blue tries to be nice, really he does, but even <em> he </em> couldn't resist the urge to heckle Razz on occasion. “THE MAN <em> TRICKED ME!” </em>it’s a scoff, one he’s sure is directed at Razz himself. “THE SMARMY-RAT-BASTARD!” </p><p> </p><p>“VOLUME,” Blue chides moving from the couch (he was not going to stay in the danger zone) and back over to his desk. He eyes the stack of papers with a distaste he had foolishly believed, he’d never develop. Oh, younger Blue, you were so, so naive to think you’d never hate something, because Blue <em> hates </em> paperwork. Absolutely <em> loathes </em> it. <em> “ </em>DO YOU WANT TO WAKE THE BEAST?”</p><p> </p><p>Razz doesn’t miss a beat. “I HOPE HE TAKES OUT AN EYE.” </p><p> </p><p>“ALWAYS THE OPTIMIST.” There’s a snort from the other side of the line. A rustle from the couch follows it and for a horrified moment they both fall as silent as a mime, only to heave two silent sighs of relief when Edge doesn’t stir. It was <em> that </em>time atop of everything else, and they quite enjoy living. “GIVE ME A MINUTE BEFORE YOU CONTINUE YOUR YELLING—I’M GOING TO SLIP OUT OF THE OFFICE.” </p><p> </p><p>There’s a grumble he takes as agreement before Blue slips out of the office with the practiced ease of a man who’s faced death and lived; because interacting with Edge normally? That was fine, easy, a piece of cake. Interacting with the monster when his hormones were hay-wire? Fucking terrible. Blue would rather sell someone to the devil for a singular taco than interact with the demon that is Edge, ever so often. </p><p> </p><p>Stepping into the kitchen a smile quirks up. Edge had apparently finished cleaning the place early, again. “WE’RE IN THE CLEAR,” There’s a groan. </p><p> </p><p>“CAN YOU FOR ONCE IN YOUR LIFE NOT SUBJECT ME TO SUCH IDIOCY?”</p><p> </p><p>“YOU HAVE THE THINGS THAT BRING YOU JOY AND I HAVE MINE.” Speaking of joy… with a glance back to the office door Blue grabs the container of chili saved just for him (and that Edge would absolutely hit him over the head for so early) and slips it into the microwave. </p><p> </p><p>“... PLEASE TELL ME YOU DIDN’T.” Blue can just imagine him massaging at the incoming migraine. Blue’s grin widens despite the fact that Razz can’t see it. “AT LEAST SAVE HIM SOME. IF ONLY TO SAVE OUR EARS LATER.”</p><p> </p><p>“WE DON’T HAVE EARS,” He points out and Razz just huffs at him in annoyance. Like a bull, he could even create air if he got mad enough. With a tug to the cupboard he grabs a couple crackers to go with it. It wasn’t often he got a bowl to himself—if he didn’t leave any then he’d take the hormone induced upset-ness hands down. </p><p> </p><p>“BESIDES THE POINT. AND FOR THE RECORD I’M ONLY ATTENDING YOUR FUNERAL TO MAKE FUN OF YOU.”</p><p> </p><p>“NOTHING NEW, BUT APPRECIATED NONETHELESS.”</p><p> </p><p>“YOU DO REALIZE… YOU KNOW WHAT NEVER MIND,” Razz sighs. “YOUR INEPTNESS KNOWS NO BOUNDS. BACK TO THE SUBJECT AT HAND.” </p><p> </p><p>Cradling the phone between his shoulder and his cheek Blue hums in acknowledgement. The news was calling his name, besides, they’d need to know the weather for Edge’s side-gig this weekend. It ranged every week or so if he remembered right; one week it’d be some video or another, the next it’d be pictures. Blue was a little baffled how he made so much money, but he wasn’t going to complain.</p><p> </p><p>“—HE WANTS A <em> FOUNTAIN, </em>BLUE!” He blinks back to attention at the growl of anger sent directly into what would be his ear canal if he had one. Good news, the weather would be perfect for whatever was on the menu. Bad news? He blanked out on what Razz said. It was time to pretend. “WHO WANTS A FOUNTAIN FOR A CHARITY EVENT? HE SHOULD JUST ADMIT THAT HE WANTS TO HOST A PARTY JUST TO HOST A PARTY TO SHOW OFF HIS WEALTH.” </p><p> </p><p>“IF HE DOES THAT TOO OFTEN HIS IMAGE WOULD BE TARNISHED.” It was a shame it hadn’t already been in his fine opinion. The man was a crook. </p><p> </p><p>“THEN LET IT BE TARNISHED!” Razz snaps back and he can’t help but chuckle. It really was the best move to get out of the office right now, besides it meant that Edge couldn’t bitch at him for taking a break. Considering he was on it. He eats another spoonful of chili as Razz continues, “HE MUST REALIZE THAT WE CAN’T JUST FANCY-NANCY OURSELVES FOR EACH AND EVERY EVENT HE OR ANYONE ELSE WANTS TO HOST!” </p><p> </p><p>“THEY’RE SHARE-HOLDERS,” He says around his food ignoring the disgusted noise Razz makes. As if he wasn’t a gremlin himself some days, Blue muses to himself, it was hypocrisy at its finest. “WE HAVE TO INTERACT WITH THEM EVEN IF WE DON’T WANT TO.”</p><p> </p><p>“OR IF THEY’RE CROOKS,” Blue adds, almost as an afterthought. </p><p> </p><p>Wow, now that he really thought about it, a lot of people that owned big businesses were actually crooks. Wasn’t that something? He could probably convince the cops to look into them at some point, half the time they didn’t even try to hide their crookery. It would be laughable if it didn’t actually affect people.</p><p> </p><p>“YOU THINK WE SHOULD REPORT HIS OBVIOUS TAX FRAUD?” He says a moment later, accidentally interrupting whatever colorful descriptor Razz was using today to describe the man. It wasn’t an uncommon occurrence for Razz to go off on a tangent. </p><p> </p><p>“WHAT?”</p><p> </p><p>“DO YOU THINK WE SHOULD REPORT HIS TAX FRAUD?” Blue enunciates slower. Really, for someone that was usually on the ball Razz could be so unaware. “WELL, THEN AGAIN WHAT WOULD HAPPEN TO THE EMPLOYEES IF THEY GOT TANGLED INTO IT?” He taps a finger against his jaw, other hand holding another spoonful of chili in the air. “MAYBE NOT THEN… I’LL THINK OF SOMETHING ELSE. YOU CAN CONTINUE.” </p><p> </p><p>There’s a sigh so heavy, and so aggrieved that Blue wonders if, even for just a moment, he finally broke Razz. “SOMETIMES, I SERIOUSLY CANNOT STAND YOU.” Nope, still working. “PUT THE CHILI DOWN, YOU BECOME A DUNCE.”</p><p> </p><p>“I DO NOT!” He says around a mouthful of it that makes Razz gag. </p><p> </p><p>“YOU KNOW WHAT WE’LL JUST TALK WHEN I GET BACK. YOU’RE INCORRIGIBLE ON A GOOD DAY AND CLEARLY YOUR ONE WORKING BRAIN CELL HAS DESERTED YOU.”</p><p> </p><p>“YEAH!” He says cheerily. “STRETCH HAS IT TODAY.” </p><p> </p><p>The resounding silence is expected, but Blue can’t say that he's not disappointed. </p><p> </p><p>“COWARD.”</p><p> </p><p>***</p><p> </p><p>Blinking as he comes through the door all Razz can really work up is the raise of a brow-bone. He gestures with a hand to the two lumps on the couch, or rather, the Edge sized lump under a blanket yet sprawled over Blue like he was the monster’s personal comforter. Blue’s laptop settled over his back. </p><p> </p><p>“DO I EVEN WANT TO KNOW.”</p><p> </p><p>Blue glances up. Apparently Edge had forced him to wear his glasses, he’d never wear them otherwise. “HE WANTED TO CUDDLE.”</p><p> </p><p>Edge doesn’t even come out of his blanket fort to address him. Not that Razz really expected him to. “SO FUCK OFF. DINNERS ALREADY SIMMERING.” </p><p> </p><p>His face twists up in disgust even as he struggles to get his shoes off by the entrance. Fucking Chilate de Pollo. They were going to die. None of them besides Blue, Red, Edge and on the very rare occasion, Slim, could handle anything with spice in it. They weren’t made for it—Razz could say with a decent amount of confidence, that their suffering was going to be on a new scale all together. </p><p> </p><p>“I’LL ORDER ROOM SERVICE LATER,” He grumbles, not giving them more than a passing look as he heads into the kitchen. Blue was responding to emails, and with how Edge had practically koala’d himself around the shorter monster they’d been like that for a while. Would probably continue like that too. </p><p> </p><p>Nose bridge wrinkling at the smell of epazote, cumin, pequin and whatever else Edge had decided to add to the concoction simmering on their stove, Razz covers his nose with his suit sleeve (which he frankly, couldn’t wait to get out of), as he goes about starting to boil some water for some tea. </p><p> </p><p>He makes a clicking noise with his tongue. “HEY PRINCESS!” </p><p> </p><p>“FUCK OFF!” Edge grumbles back and there’s a wheeze he’s pretty sure is from Blue as well as a quipped, <em> don’t dig your bony ass arm into my rib! </em>probably deserved it. </p><p> </p><p>Razz could say with a decent amount of pride, that he was one of the only individuals who could call the prickly bastard something other than his name and not get punched. Didn’t mean he wouldn’t use his powers to annoy. “WE NEED MORE TEA.”</p><p> </p><p>“WE HAVE TEA. MOVE THE SUGAR OUT OF THE WAY.” </p><p> </p><p>He raises a brow, moving the canister out of the way. Barren. “THERE’S NO SUGAR—”</p><p> </p><p>“NOT THE WEED SUGAR YOU IDIOT,” Razz twists the canister around with another click of his tongue. Yeah, that was Slim and Stretch’s. He puts it back without so much as a word before rustling around in the kitchen to find the <em> other </em>sugar canister. There’s a puff of air from the couch. “TOP OF THE FRIDGE, OH WAIT YOU MIGHT NEED A STOOL FOR THAT.”</p><p> </p><p>There’s another wheezy laugh and for one, bitter moment, Razz hopes that Blue crushes the bastard from laughing too hard. “I AM LITERALLY TALLER THAN YOU.” He’s six feet and Edge and his short ass was not going to take that away from him—even if he wore boots that gave him two extra inches over him; like the dramatic bitch he is. </p><p> </p><p>“AND YET YOU STILL GET MAD.”</p><p> </p><p>He opens his mouth, closes it and then promptly sends a bird Edge’s way, uncaring if the other skeleton sees it or not. Blue coughs to try and cover up his laughter, fingers still click-clacking away on his keyboard. “MAKE SOME COCOA. HE’S BEEN COMPLAINING ABOUT WANTING SOMETHING SWEET.”</p><p> </p><p>“I HAVE NOT!” Is the indignant reply.</p><p> </p><p>“MAKE IT YOURSELF.” Razz deadpans, despite the fact that he does start to rummage around for the Swiss Miss box of cocoa, and then not even a moment after finding it, he snatches the secret stash of marshmallows from Stretch’s false cupboard. Nerd thought he was slick. </p><p> </p><p>The kettle barely manages to get a whistle out before he’s moving it from the stove to make his Earl Grey and Edge’s cocoa. Glancing once more around the kitchen he balances a bag of Milano cooks between two fingers, before finally heading back into the living room.</p><p> </p><p>Razz very pointedly ignores the amused look Blue sends him as he nudges the cat taking over their couch with the heel of his foot. “LIFT THEM UP, MONGREL.” </p><p> </p><p>A hand slithers out of the blanket making a gimme gesture. “PAY THE TOLL FIRST YOU TROLL.” For that Razz kicks him once more before handing over the drink and the bag of cookies as a no doubt, short-lived treaty. The legs and the Sferra blanket rise. “YOU MAY SIT PEASANT.” </p><p> </p><p>He swats at the other monster even as he sits down, feet balancing comfortably on the ottoman in front of them. “YOU’RE LITERALLY THE MOST SPOILED INDIVIDUAL I HAVE EVER MET.” </p><p> </p><p>“I AM A <em> LUXURY.” </em>Edge corrects, his other hand coming out of his blanket to toss the remote his way. Razz doesn’t even have to look up to catch it. “AS SUCH I AM GOING TO ENJOY MYSELF. BESIDES, IF I WASN’T HERE WHO’D KEEP THE NUMEROUS HARLOTS FROM TEARING YOU TO SHREDS.”</p><p> </p><p>Blue nudges at his shoulder in reprimand. “THAT’S RUDE.”</p><p> </p><p>“NO, NO, FOR ONCE HE’S RIGHT.” Blue shoots him a look of consternation. He shrugs flipping through the channels before settling on some terrible comedy. “DOESN’T MATTER WHO THEY ARE. I’D TAKE PRICKLY OVER THERE AS A PLUS-ONE OVER ANY MONSTER FANATIC THAT <em> YOU </em>AND THE REST BRING.”</p><p> </p><p>There’s a jab at his side. One that Razz returns with a jab of his own to Edge’s hip despite the yelp. “DON’T KICK ME I JUST COMPLIMENTED YOU.” </p><p> </p><p>“BACKHANDED.” Edge says finally popping out from under the blankets, just to lean halfway off the couch to set his mug down. Razz looks at him in mild fascination. Yeah, monsters, especially skeletons could go from their bones feeling as hard as a rock to as malleable as putty, but Edge really should be in his own category. He turned into a fucking noodle. “BLUE IF YOU DON’T REMOVE THE DEFECTIVE FAN YOU CALL YOUR COMPUTER <em> I WILL. </em>”</p><p> </p><p>“JUST A MINUTE.” Blue says glasses slipping down his face the more he squints. Had to be Linda then. She always used weird fonts. Razz peeks over his shoulder. Yeah, definitely Linda. “THERE DONE!” </p><p> </p><p>Edge slinks back onto the couch completely like some weird, puddle entity that Razz can’t physically stop his brows from raising even as he sips his tea. Edge has to be some kind of demon. <em> Has </em>to be. </p><p> </p><p>“YOU DO REALIZE, THAT YOU’RE NOT GOING TO SWINDLE ME INTO GIVING YOU MORE MONEY RIGHT?” Edge just hums and Razz gives him a look of complete and utter disbelief; Blue was literally the <em> worst </em>at telling people no. </p><p> </p><p>“IT’S NOT SWINDLING IF I ACTUALLY NEED IT.” </p><p> </p><p>“UH-HUH,” Blue says unconvinced, fully accepting of his new role as personal pillow and wallet for the day. Razz silently continues drinking his tea counting down in his head the amount of time it’d take for Blue to crack. “AND WHAT EXACTLY DO YOU NEED IT FOR THIS TIME.” </p><p> </p><p>“BODYGUARD DUTY.” Razz snickers into his cup at the way Blue’s head falls against the back of the couch. He looks as if his soul has just left his body. </p><p> </p><p>“RAZZ SHOULD FOOT THAT CHARGE.”</p><p> </p><p>“THE FUCK I WILL.” Razz says without so much as a pause. His fingers toy with the cuff of the prick’s pants when he notices something familiar. He squints down at them, missing the way that Edge tenses, as well as the way Blue pinches at his nose bridge. “DID YOU STEAL MY FUCKING PANTS AGAIN YOU GREMLIN?” </p><p> </p><p>“WE HAVE A COMMUNAL CLOSET,” Edge begins, going lax again when all the other skeleton does is tap at his talus rhythmically. “SO I BORROWED—”</p><p> </p><p>“RANSACKED.” Razz cuts in. </p><p> </p><p>“<em> BORROWED.” </em>Edge insists, continuing on as if Razz has never even uttered a word. “I BORROWED THEM BECAUSE THEY ARE COMFORTABLE AND EVERYTHING THAT I OWN THAT’S COMFORTABLE IS IN THE WASH.” </p><p> </p><p>He ticks up a brow unconvinced. “AND YET,” He says slowly, “I SAW A BASKET OF FRESHLY WASHED CLOTHES OUTSIDE OF ALL OF OUR DOORS,” Then, a smug smirk, slowly curls on his face as an unholy type of glee lights up his sockets, as he traps a Edge’s ankle in his hand. “IF YOU MISSED US—”</p><p> </p><p>Blue just cradles his face in his hands when Razz lets out a yelp that could put a kicked puppy to shame when Edge lunges for him, one of Stretch’s sweaters on and Razz’s pants now out in the open. This always happened. They couldn’t just have <em> one </em>day without Edge lunging at one of them, or Razz keeping his mouth shut. </p><p> </p><p>Rolling to the side of the couch he very calmly picks up his computer again, “YOU SHOULDN’T HAVE TRIED TO MENTION THAT.”</p><p> </p><p>“IT’S NORMAL—OW! YOU FUCK!” He looks up briefly just to heave a sigh that could put an earthquake to shame. Sinking further into the couch, Blue focuses on answering the new emails in his inbox rather than try and dare to stop the brawl that’d broken out because Edge was emotionally constipated and Razz was a little shit. “DON’T BITE ME!” </p><p> </p><p>Edge pushes a hand against Razz’s skull, spreading fingers and making a disgusted, choking noise when his hand gets <em> licked. </em> “YOU’RE DISGUSTING!” Razz just grins, mouth full of knives as he sticks his tongue out in warning. Edge’s face scrunches in revulsion. “AND I MOST CERTAINLY DID <em> NOT </em> MISS ANY OF YOU—LEAST OF ALL <em> YOU.”  </em></p><p> </p><p>There’s the crash of a table and Blue very firmly keeps his gaze fixed onto his screen. He was <em> not </em>going to intervene. They could kill each other all they wanted, Blue was not going to intervene today. He was out of fucks to give when it came to Razz poking the figurative bear. </p><p> </p><p>“JUST ADMIT THAT YOU CAN STAND US, YOU PRICK.” Razz hisses from somewhere down the hall and briefly, very briefly, Blue wonders how they got from the living room and into the hall in less than a minute. It had to be a new record; oh well, none of his business. “WE ALL KNOW YOU’RE A FUCKING SOFTIE!” </p><p> </p><p>Another thump. An actual hiss from Edge. Blue tentatively looks over his shoulder, oh, there went the first laundry basket. He slides even further into the couch, if he went far enough then surely, he would become one with the couch. </p><p> </p><p>“I HATE ALL OF YOU.” There’s a cackle in response to it. Razz, his mind supplies, and Blue is not at all surprised by the ensuing, <em> of course you do, princess that’s why you use our shit! </em>and then, following that, two yelps as they knock into something. </p><p> </p><p>There’s more knocking, crashing, and thumping than should really be allowed in a month let alone and <em> day </em> and before long Blue reaches for his phone, pulling up a familiar app and waits until it sends its typical chirp to Edge’s own phone to dare a peek over his shoulder. </p><p> </p><p>They're tangled like the ugliest pretzel he’s ever seen in his life. Razz’s arm is bent at an odd angle and Blue is pretty sure that’s Edge’s leg wrapped around his head, but honestly, with how twisted they are he can’t be sure. </p><p> </p><p>There’s a potent beat of silence as they take a minute to understand what the noise is and then Edge’s face splits into a smirk while Razz’s twists into a disappointed scowl. </p><p> </p><p>“<em> BLUE! </em>WHAT DID I SAY!” </p><p> </p><p>Somehow, and no, Blue isn’t sure how, Edge somehow unties himself from Razz while still leaving him tangled up to plop onto the couch close enough to be considered cuddling (not that Blue would say it. He likes his face thank you very much) as he swipes up his phone. </p><p> </p><p>“MUCH OBLIGED, BABY-BLUE.” And just like that Edge curls up as content as a cat in the sun to look at more stupidly expensive fashion. </p><p> </p><p>Razz knocks his knuckles against his head, and really, Blue can’t blame him. </p><p> </p><p>“I’M A WEAK MAN,” Blue offers up weakly as an excuse. If Razz’s face turned any redder Blue would insist they go to a hospital. </p><p> </p><p>“DUMBASS.” </p><p> </p><p>He sinks even further, nearly squishing his laptop between his knees and pelvic bone. “FAIR.” </p><p> </p><p>***</p><p> </p><p>The debacle of Blue getting  swindled of more money has mostly passed, by the time that Edge is finally turning off the stove to start plate everything at the table, including the tortillas and a side of rice when the door to the penthouse clicks open and Red and Slim trickle in. Red looks far too smug. </p><p> </p><p>Narrowing his sockets Edge eyes the box held at his side with, in his opinion, a very justified suspicion. Red’s grin gets wider. “guess what we picked up from the desk?” He shakes the box to bring attention to it. </p><p> </p><p>“WHERE IS STRETCH?” Then, almost as if the thought just dawned on him, he continues, “AND THE OTHER TWO?” </p><p> </p><p>Red just plain-out ignores the question as he sets the box on the table. Glancing over it Edge just hums in acknowledgement, not at all ashamed even as Razz gives a muttered, “REALLY ON THE TABLE, RED?” </p><p> </p><p>“‘s not my fault his dick came in.” </p><p> </p><p>“PACKER.” Edge corrects. He doesn’t look at all bothered by the fact that Slim has attached himself to his back like a limpet. Which is odd. Red sends a glance Razz’s way only to get an irate look in return, or well, one that’s more irate than usual. He makes an understanding ‘o’ before making way for the stash of sweets. </p><p> </p><p>“yeah, whatever, it’s your dick.” Red says unfazed as he digs out an entire container of muffins. He flips it just to check the date before humming in satisfaction, “stop starin’ at it tyrant ‘s just a box it ain’t going to attack you.” </p><p> </p><p>“WE’RE SKELETONS.” Razz points out mildly, eyeing the box like it very well may in fact lunge for him. “AND YOU NEVER ANSWERED WHERE THE OTHER THREE WERE.” </p><p> </p><p>He beams proud when he finds another container of muffins; banana nut muffin, Edge’s go to comfort snack. “stretch is picking up food or somethin’ said he ain’t riskin’ the death of his mouth for blue’s terrible life decisions.” </p><p> </p><p>“THAT ISN’T THREE.” Razz says looking at him like an idiot. Red just as easily flips him the bird. </p><p> </p><p>“i was gettin’ there,” </p><p> </p><p>“OF COURSE YOU WERE. BECAUSE YOU’RE AS SLOW AS A TURTLE.”</p><p> </p><p>“an’ i’ll win every race,” Razz’s skull makes contact with the table even as Red laughs to himself. “they’re still workin’ ‘m pretty sure, or puff is. think comic fell asleep already.” </p><p> </p><p>“i’ve been here,” It sends Red shooting up toward the ceiling. Comic snorts, scrubbing a tired hand over his face, “‘m gettin’ puff in a minute. try not to bust your non-existent ass.” Before Red can even retort he’s using a shortcut.</p><p> </p><p>“i fuckin’ hate that guy,” Red growls stumbling up onto the stool he’s chosen to eat at the island. Next to him Razz is still eyeing the box warily, he digs his shoulder into the other skeleton’s rib, grin so wide it might split his skull in half, “what, ya never seen a packer before?”</p><p> </p><p>“NO.” Razz says after a minute, gaze never leaving the box. The pressure against his ribs gets a little more harsh. “HE’S A MAN WITHOUT ONE.” </p><p> </p><p>The pressure lets up, just barely. A bowl is pushed his way as Edge moves about in the kitchen despite there being a muffin in hand and Slim resolutely not removing his grip. “IT’S MORE ABOUT THAT IT WOULD BE NICE TO HAVE WHEN I WANT TO WEAR ONE.” </p><p> </p><p>Razz hums, nodding in acknowledgement. Red tears into his food after nothing else is said, giving Edge a thumbs up when he gets a curious look. Slim only lets go to sit down and eat when Edge slides a plate with more chicken than the rest into place. </p><p> </p><p>“where’s blue?” he inquires quietly, looking as if the short lived hug had recharged his battery to half-percent. </p><p> </p><p>“SHOWER. I TOOK HIS COMPUTER AND PUT IT ON THE TOP SHELF,” Red snorts nearly choking on his chicken. Razz sits content to watch him struggle as Edge continues unfazed. “HE’LL BE OUT IN A FEW MINUTES, BUT MORE IMPORTANTLY, WHAT ARE WE DOING ABOUT KANSBREN?” </p><p> </p><p>“BURNING HIM AT THE STAKE?” Razz offers, tentatively trying the dish, nearly gagging at the spice, before he’s taking off like a shot to the fridge. Weakling. </p><p> </p><p>Red howls on his stool at the way he nearly stumbles over his own feet to get the milk. Edge shakes his head in dismay, sending a weary glance the muffins way… would it be worth it? “chug! chug! chug! if you choke i’ll somethin’ nice at your funeral.” </p><p> </p><p>Razz sends him a scathing look even as a torrent of milk flushes down his throat. Edge sends an even more desperate look at the muffins. Oh, fuck it, when else would he get to indulge? </p><p> </p><p>“i could eat all the food?” Slim pips up, sending the most effective puppy-eyes in his direction, star shaped and all. They really needed to stop letting him watch anime with Undyne and Alphys on his days off. With a sigh Edge gives him more, “or fuck wit’ his stocks for ya darlin’.”</p><p> </p><p>“SLIM!” Razz huffs only to return to chugging his milk while Red continues chanting chug in a perfect impression of a frat-boy during a hazing. </p><p> </p><p>Slim rolls his eyes, sending a slow, amused smile Edge’s way like usual when he’s on-board to fuck with someone. “fine, i would love to fuck wit’ his stocks, reveal his infidelity anonymously, but quite publicly, and <em> then </em>take ya t’ l’appart, darlin’” He even gives an over-exaggerated wink to make Edge snort. </p><p> </p><p>Razz gives a garbled scream around his milk as Blue finally pads in, towel resting on his shoulders. “ARE WE BULLYING, RAZZ?”</p><p> </p><p>“SOMETHING LIKE THAT.” Edge says, finally deciding to sit on the counter and cradle the container of muffins on his lap a plate of actual food next to him. Blue hums motioning for one, giving him an unamused look when Edge makes a disagreeing noise in his non-existent throat.</p><p> </p><p>“I LITERALLY GAVE YOU MONEY <em> TWICE </em>TODAY.” He holds out a hand. With a grumble Edge gives up one of his muffins. “AND NO I DO NOT WANT TO HEAR ONE WORD OUT OF ANY OF YOU ABOUT IT.” Blue finishes with a huff, chin jutted out in a sign that he’s honestly not down for it. </p><p> </p><p>“I FUCKING HATE ALL OF YOU,” Razz pants, the color to his skull finally receding as Red has been reduced to tears from watching the whole display. </p><p> </p><p>“PUT THE CARTON—DID YOU FINISH THE WHOLE CARTON!” Edge says in disbelief, looking over the empty jug. He’d bought that literally yesterday! </p><p> </p><p>“YOUR COOKING TRIED TO KILL ME.” Razz returns primly, wiping the back of his hand over his mouth as if he just hadn’t turned into a fucking gremlin. “I’LL PICK UP ANOTHER TOMORROW DON’T GET YOUR PANTIES IN A TWIST.”</p><p> </p><p>Edge eyes the muffin in his hand. Then the prime target that is the sparkling surface of Razz’s head. </p><p> </p><p>“not worth it,” Slim says patting his knee and Edge concedes, choosing to instead bite into as if it was his head instead. He props his chin on top of his hand looking for all intents and purposes, as if he’s ready to drift onto dream land. With the careful twitch of blue magic Edge moves his plate out of the way in case Slim’s head decides to take a dive. “we really do need t’ figure out what we’re doin’ though,” </p><p> </p><p>‘’bout what?” Stretch mumbles working his way through the entrance. He jingles a back of take-out, “got italian—whoa guess some of us already got suckered,” He continues with a chuckle when Razz snatches it out his hands. Stretch slouches as he follows behind, tossing a bottle of pamprin onto the counter, “picked some up ‘cause we were out.” </p><p> </p><p>Edge breaks his muffin in half, rolling his eyes at the way Stretch pumps his arm like he’s playing Power Rangers. “NERD.” </p><p> </p><p>He winks, even as Razz gags behind him. “you know it spikey mcspikerson.” </p><p> </p><p>“DON’T MAKE ME TAKE THAT BACK FROM YOU,”</p><p> </p><p>Stretch unhinges his jaw like an anaconda before tossing it in, never breaking eye contact. Edge’s face scrunches up in disgust. He speaks around his chewing, ignoring the disgruntled look coming from all three of the louder skeletons. “all seriousness though, what’re we talkin’ ‘bout?” Then, as if on auto-pilot he leaves the kitchen and comes back with a heating pad, also tossing it Edge’s way.</p><p> </p><p>He raises a brow. “YOU REALIZE I WOULD HAVE GRABBED IT IF I NEEDED IT RIGHT?”</p><p> </p><p>“you literally forget where you put shit during your whole,” Stretch waves a hand at his entire person.</p><p> </p><p>“IT’S A PERIOD.” Edge deadpans. “CALL IT WHAT IT IS INSTEAD OF BEING A COWARD.” </p><p> </p><p>Stretch’s skull lights up like a traffic signal as Red starts laughing again, just barely recovering from his previous gut-buster. “fine…” Stretch pauses momentarily to inhale a deep, bracing breath. If his skull got any brighter Edge might think he’d pass out. “you have a terrible memory on your… period.” </p><p> </p><p>Then, he rushes to his seat, brow-bones furrowing in confusion at the box. He gestures at it, not catching the way Razz’s head meets the counter. “do i even want to know?”</p><p> </p><p>“edge’s dick.” Both Red and Slim intone at the same time. </p><p> </p><p>“you know what, fair,” Stretch says digging out his order from the take-out bag.</p><p> </p><p>“CAN WE <em> PLEASE </em>GET BACK ON TOPIC.” Razz mumbles into the counter even as Blue pats him on the shoulder. “I FOR ONE WOULD VERY MUCH LIKE TO GO BACK TO THE REAL TOPIC AT HAND.”</p><p> </p><p>“WE SHOULD WAIT FOR COMIC AND PUFF,” Blue points out looking as if none of this conversation could do so much as surprise him. “THEY <em> DO </em>LIVE IN THE PENTHOUSE TOO.”</p><p> </p><p>Razz crumbles even further against the counter with a muffled scream. Edge just snorts now firmly tucked into the corner of the counter with both muffins, a heating pad and his stolen clothes. </p><p> </p><p>“i mean,” Stretch starts, forkful of pasta already in hand, “i’ll wait for them to get back, but ‘m not waiting to eat.”</p><p> </p><p>“AND NO ONE’S STOPPING YOU.” Edge says in return without so much as a stumble. None of them adhered to a typical eating time—he definitely wasn’t this week. He planned on eating, listening to whatever the plan was, then taking a nice, long, <em> warm </em>bath before he went to bed. </p><p> </p><p>People as fabulous as Edge didn’t stay this fabulous without proper care and attention. And Edge was very much going to pamper himself.</p><p> </p><p>Half of them finish up dinner (Slim, Razz—in record speed—and Stretch) by the time that Comic and Puff really make it back, Comic drenched from head to toe with an easy grin even as Puff looks like he’s just gone through World War Three.</p><p> </p><p>“THE ESTABLISHMENT ACROSS THE STREET IS STILL CONTINUING THEIR PRANK WAR AGAINST MY BROTHER,” He says with a heavy grievance to his words. “IT’S A SHAME THEY WON’T TAKE ANY POINTERS ON HOW TO GIVE THEM MORE PIZZAZZ. OR EVEN SOME FINESSE.” </p><p> </p><p>Comic just chuckles, slipping off his jacket (because he refused to dress in <em> business casual </em> unless forced let alone formal) even as Razz squawks, “GO IN THE BATHROOM YOU UNCIVILIZED TRASH-BAG! YOU’RE GETTING WATER ON THE FLOORS! <em> WOOD </em>FLOORS MIGHT I ADD!” </p><p> </p><p>Edge lifts a knife from the dried dishes, “I WOULD ALSO LIKE TO OFFER THIS UP AS INCENTIVE AS A REASON TO MOVE QUICKLY.” </p><p> </p><p>Puff huffs one of his sockets twitching as Comic’s grin grows wider, and he makes not even an attempt to move. “<em> PLEASE </em>GO AND CHANGE. AND PICK UP YOUR SOCKS FROM THE HALLWAY.”</p><p> </p><p>“who’s sock?” several of them chorus.</p><p> </p><p>Comic snickers finally plodding his way to his room to change with a wink toward the kitchen, “welp it was real knife, catchin’ up with you, seems like we’ve got a real good <em> tang </em> goin’ on here,” There’s a wheeze from Red as he nearly falls off his seat, the two other pun loving idiots trying to stifle their own chortles (Stretch) or their giggling (Slim) while everyone else pins various looks of homicide on his head. Comic’s grin gets distressingly wide, “don’tcha know it’s a real <em> stab </em>le crowd tonight.”</p><p> </p><p>He blips out of existence as Edge lets the knife go flying, his cackling echoing in the halls. Without a word Puff removes the knife from the wall and deposits in the utensil drawer, before dragging a hand down his face. </p><p> </p><p>Blue passes him a shot of whiskey. “MAYBE NEXT TIME PUFF, THEY SEEM LIKE THEY’LL CRACK AND TAKE YOUR ADVICE SOON. THEY USED THE SHAVING CREAM YOU MENTIONED, CONSIDERING IT WAS ON COMIC’S HEAD.”</p><p> </p><p>“THAT IS TRUE,” Puff muses, taking a sip, and reaching for the pasta even as he sends an apology Edge’s way. </p><p> </p><p>“NONE TAKEN,” Edge returns with a sniff, “YOUR PALATES AREN’T BUILT FOR IT. YOU CAN’T HELP IT.” </p><p> </p><p>A pause throughout the kitchen. Edge stiffening, his skull turning a bright shade of red and then a huffy, “<em> DON’T YOU DARE.”  </em></p><p> </p><p>Without even a minute of time passing, matching, teasing grins form, with Stretch starting first, “guess ya do fuckin’ care for us, <em> sweets.”  </em></p><p> </p><p><em> “ </em> I WILL <em> STAB </em>YOU,” Edge grits. </p><p> </p><p>“c’mon, hell-raiser,” Red eggs on, his own shit eating grin widening to a degree that it should resemble a cracked egg. “ain’t nothin’ wrong wit’ admittin’ that ya don’t hate everybody.” </p><p> </p><p>Some of them take a step forward. Edge narrows his eyes, bowing up like a cornered cat. “I WILL POISON EACH AND EVERY ONE OF YOU IF YOU EVEN <em> TRY </em>THAT DISGUSTING, GUSHY SHIT.” </p><p> </p><p>Slim lunges first tugging him off the counter into a hug despite the yowl of displeasure and the hands very firmly pushing at the top of his skull as Edge tries to wriggle free. “you <em> do </em> care about us,” he simpers, over-dramatic and grip getting tighter when he gets a hissed <em> sleep with one eye open tonight </em> and returns with his own flippant, “why comin’ to cuddle, darlin’?”</p><p> </p><p>“I HATE ALL OF YOU!” </p><p> </p><p>Razz grabs the bottle of scotch, raising it as a toast with a quick, “LOVE YOU TOO, PRINCESS, NOW IF YOU DON’T MIND. I’VE EARNED THIS.” And with that, he removes the top and takes a swig.</p><p> </p><p>“MODERATION,” Puff chides, despite offering up his shot glass for another pour, “JUST TAKE THE HUGS EDGY-ME. YOU MIGHT FEEL BETTER—PUT THE KNIFE DOWN!” </p><p> </p><p>“TELL HIM TO PUT ME DOWN!” Edge hisses back. “I DON’T WANT YOUR HUGS!” </p><p> </p><p>“YOU WERE LITERALLY COMPLAINING THAT BLUE WASN’T IN HERE TO GIVE YOU A HUG WHILE HE WAS SHOWERING,” Razz says with a smirk, returning the glare with an unholy kind of glee. “IN YOUR OWN WORDS,”—He curls his hand around the bottle of scotch so he can quote with his fingers—”I DON’T WANT TO STAB HIM LIKE YOU RAZZ. HE DOESN’T COMPLAIN.” </p><p> </p><p>“I TOLD YOU THAT IN CONFIDENCE YOU BASTARD!”</p><p> </p><p>“AND THAT WAS PURE STUPIDITY ON YOUR PART,” Razz returns without skipping a beat. “WHEN HAVE I EVER KEPT A SECRET, HMM?” </p><p> </p><p>“BITCH.”</p><p> </p><p>“LOVE YOU TOO, YOU PRICK.” </p><p> </p><p>Blue coughs, giving them all a pointed look as Comic finally comes plodding back in with a raised brow, “he finally done bein’ prickly? we huggin’ now?” </p><p> </p><p>“TOUCH ME AND DIE.” </p><p> </p><p>Comic puts his hands up, turning on his heel to return to the table. Blue massages at his head, hoping that the migraine goes away. “PUT HIM DOWN SO THAT WE CAN GET BACK TO THE REAL TOPIC AT HAND.” </p><p> </p><p>“I STILL THINK WE SHOULD BURN HIM AT THE STAKE.” </p><p> </p><p>“THANK YOU FOR YOUR RIVETING COMMENTARY,” Blue responds dryly. </p><p> </p><p>“why do we have to go again?” Stretch inquires, propping his chin onto his hand. “is it not enough to just ignore him?”</p><p> </p><p>“NO WE CANNOT IGNORE HIM.” Blue says with a huff. “HE IS A SHARE-HOLDER. I UNDERSTAND THAT WE ALL DISLIKE HIM, BUT WE HAVE TO GO.”</p><p> </p><p>“THEN WHAT EXACTLY IS THE TOPIC AT HAND?” Puff speaks up, his brow-bones furrowing in confusion. He genuinely looks baffled. “WE ALWAYS GO TO THESE THINGS, WHAT MAKES THIS ONE DIFFERENT?”</p><p> </p><p>“NOTHING IN PARTICULAR.” Several matching incredulous looks are leveled Blue’s way. He holds out his hands in defense, “OKAY, HEY, LOOK, IT’S <em> KANSBREN. </em>WE CAN’T BE RELAXED LIKE USUAL OR HE’LL DRAG US THROUGH THE MUD.” </p><p> </p><p>A blanket of disbelieving silence takes over the kitchen. </p><p> </p><p>Then, a wide grin spreads across Edge’s face as he primly folds his hands in his lap. Blue feels a nervous sweat start on his skull. “SO,” Edge starts, a maniac glee to his sockets as he addresses the room. “WHO WANTS TO GO ON A SHOPPING TRIP WITH ME TOMORROW?”</p><p> </p><p>The kitchen breaks into an uproar. </p><p> </p><p>“STOP TRYING TO SWINDLE US! YOU HAVE YOUR OWN BANK ACCOUNT!” Razz hisses but it’s obvious to all of them how he takes out his phone to check over his schedule.</p><p> </p><p>“can we at least make it quick? some of take nappin’ pretty damn seriously,” Comic mutters, not bothering to lift up his head.</p><p> </p><p>Razz rounds on him. His socket twitching. “DON’T ENCOURAGE HIM!” </p><p> </p><p>“you literally have your phone out.” Stretch points out, waving a lazy finger at the phone in his hand. Razz flushes, shoving it back into his slacks. Stretch sends him a lazy, smug grin. “that’s what i thought, hypocrite.”</p><p> </p><p>Blue thumps his head against the counter, motioning for the bottle of scotch. With all the hands, he can’t even say for sure who passed it. “MUST YOU REALLY DO THIS? EVERY TIME?”</p><p> </p><p>“IT ISN’T MY FAULT THAT THE FASHION INDUSTRY IS ALWAYS EVOLVING.” Edge says flippantly. Blue screams into the counter.</p><p> </p><p>***</p><p> </p><p>Sliding his sunglasses up to look at the mall square Edge ticks a brow up. Behind him Slim follows at a much more sedated pace, more than content to just follow for the day and act like the inevitable pack-mule he’d become. </p><p> </p><p>Any day off was a good day off after all. </p><p> </p><p>“YOU’D THINK PEOPLE HERE WOULD HAVE A BETTER APPRECIATION FOR THE PLACE,” Edge says with a click of his teeth. The square was in terrible condition, it was a high-end place, and a mall he went to pretty often, but not once has he ever seen this particular area of the mall clean for longer than an hour at a time. “WHAT WITH IT BEING HERE DUE TO THEIR TAX DOLLARS. OURS TOO NOW THAT I THINK ABOUT IT.” </p><p> </p><p>It was an open mall. Home to a variety of shops and few exclusive apartments. He nudges a broken pot with the tip of his shoe, tacking on, “DID WE GET THE TAX FORMS IN YET?” as if he’s just remembered it. </p><p> </p><p>Slim shrugs righting one of the still intact pots. He was just happy to be here and out of the office, besides shopping trips with Edge were usually enjoyable. “dunno,” he offers, slipping off his gloves and tucking them into his jean pockets (D&amp;G Edge had insisted that morning) so that he sweeps the dirt back into the pots that had simply been knocked over. “think blue would’ve told ya if we did.”</p><p> </p><p>Edge hums in acknowledgement. “HE WOULD HAVE WOULDN’T HE?” Slim nods not at all surprised when Edge squats down to help and clean up despite wearing something most people couldn’t afford with a typical wage. Multiplied by ten. It was a quirk of his; complaining about how he didn’t want to dirty anything, but then immediately risks doing exactly that.</p><p> </p><p>Soon enough the sun is rising to its full heat and the plaza is cleaned up to the best of their combined ability. Not a single smudge in sight on Edge (after all he’s mastered the art of cleaning while fabulous), Slim… not so smudge free.</p><p> </p><p>Edge tsks. “YOUR FACE WASN’T EVEN THAT CLOSE TO THE DIRT.” Slim shrugs, an easy-going smile in place even as Edge huffs, tugging a bacterial box out of his sling-over backpack. “FACE AND <em> THEN </em>HANDS.” </p><p> </p><p>“i know how to clean,” Slim says wryly, smile never leaving even as he cleans and they continue. He tosses it in the nearest bin. “which are we going to first?” </p><p> </p><p>Edge stops, turning on his heel to give him a critical look. </p><p> </p><p>Slim blinks, scuttling back a few steps when he nearly knocks into the shorter skeleton. “what?” </p><p> </p><p>Studying him Edge nods in approval. They’d be getting Slim a new suit today—what he normally wore is nice. Cute, Edge would even say. Woolrich coat that was as soft as anything, and somehow went well with everything else Slim wore when he was out of a suit (and, on occasion, with one), which today consisted of a nice, clean and crisply black pressed turtleneck and white slacks, tucked into his shoes. </p><p> </p><p>It was nice. Acceptable for an outing like this, but Edge intended to increase his wardrobe as <em> well </em>as his own. It was simply unacceptable for Slim to rotate between the same five outfits. A tragedy even. He looked so nice when he tried, but to be frank, Edge was tired of seeing the same five things, plus a suit, every week. </p><p> </p><p>“TOM FORD,” Edge says with a sniff, tugging at the end of Slim’s sleeve to hurry him along. “NOT AS FLASHY AS THE OTHERS. YOU’LL LOOK STUNNING.” He decides even as Slim’s brows furrow in confusion.</p><p> </p><p>“uh, we came here for <em> you,” </em> Slim says with a quirk to his mouth that reads as both exasperatedly fond <em> and </em>befuddled, even as he keeps up easily. Two of Edge’s heeled steps only taking one of his. Being about nine inches taller had its benefits when it came to other people’s speed walking. “whenever one of us gets sucked into this, we always turn into your pack mule, darlin’.” </p><p> </p><p>“OH. DON’T WORRY ABOUT THAT, YOU WILL.” Edge assures easily, missing the way Slim’s face spasms to contain his amusement. He pats Slim's hand almost like a doting older person might a youngin’ and Slim nearly snorts so hard he stumbles. “BUT IT’S A TRAVESTY THAT YOU DON’T GET SOME THINGS TOO,” He holds Razz’s black card between two clawed phalanges, waving it with a smirk. “AND I HAVE FULL PERMISSION.”</p><p> </p><p>Slim quirks a brow even higher, with a shake of his head. “how’d ya manage to get him t’ fork that over?”</p><p> </p><p>“SAID I’D FEND OFF THE HARLOTS FOR HIM.”</p><p> </p><p>He frowns. “You shouldn’t call ‘em that, darlin’ ‘s rude.” </p><p> </p><p>Edge levels him with a look. And then, pats his cheek almost patronizingly. Or it would be if Slim didn’t lean into it like an overgrown puppy. “THEY’RE QUITE RUDE THEMSELVES,” He retorts, leading Slim along down the sidewalk. “THEY HAVE NO SENSE OF BOUNDARIES. TOO MANY OF THEM FLOUNCE ABOUT TRYING TO GET AT YOUR WALLETS.” </p><p> </p><p>Slim knocks their shoulders together with a laugh. He doesn’t even bother to try and hide how amused he is as Edge tugs him along. “isn’t that what <em> you </em>do?” He asks with not a hint of judgement. </p><p> </p><p>Edge waves a dismissive hand. “THAT’S DIFFERENT. I DO THE SPENDING OUT OF LOVE AND THE FACT THAT YOU NEVER DO EXCEPT FOR OFFICE SUPPLIES, THE SAME TWO BRANDS OF SUITS, AND FOOD.” He gestures at himself as they round a bend. “SO I MAKE SURE YOU ALL ENJOY SOME OF THE FINER THINGS IN LIFE. BESIDES, YOU CAN TRUST ME NOT TO STEAL YOUR SOCIAL SECURITY OR SIGN A MORTGAGE IN YOUR NAME.” </p><p> </p><p>Slim flushes. “that was an accident!” </p><p> </p><p>“ALL I’M SAYING IS THAT YOUR TASTE IN PARTNERS FOR THESE EVENTS ARE TERRIBLE. IT’S WHY I ALWAYS GO WITH RAZZ DESPITE WANTING TO DO NOTHING MORE THAN STAB HIM. OFTEN.” </p><p> </p><p>“they looked nice!” He defends, pout forming even as his flush spreads to his vertebrae.</p><p> </p><p>“I LOOK NICE BUT I WOULD SELL MOST OF YOU FOR A SINGLE SIMONETT RING.” </p><p> </p><p>“what can we say? we have great taste in people and wallet stealers.” </p><p> </p><p>“FLATTERY WILL GET YOU NOWHERE.” Edge informs him with a fake, indulgent smile.</p><p> </p><p>“never meant for it too.” he says plainly, his head cocking in curiosity when they stop. “my stuff first?”</p><p> </p><p>Edge pats his cheek, once more before holding open the door. “OF COURSE. CAN’T HAVE YOU TIRED OUT AND READY TO GO RIGHT AWAY NOW CAN I? YOU’RE GOING TO BE THE BEAU OF THE BALL IF I HAVE ANYTHING TO DO WITH IT.” </p><p> </p><p>Slim just smiles indulgently as he steps in. “aren’t you already the holder of that title?”</p><p> </p><p>The aggressive push against his back to lead him toward the dressing area is totally worth it. It wasn’t very often that any of them got to ruffle Edge’s feathers.</p><p> </p><p>“YOU STAND RIGHT HERE.” Edge says pointing by the private booth. Slim’s smile just grows when he notices the flush has spread farther than just his cheek-bones. Edge in return, upon noticing the blatant amusement, glowers. “IF NEED BE I WILL FIND AN ASCOT TO CHOKE YOU WITH.”</p><p> </p><p>“of course, darlin’,” Slim agrees too easily, practically towering over him when he rocks on his heels. He puts his hands up when all Edge gives him is an unconvinced look. “i’ll be on my best behavior. swear it.”</p><p> </p><p>He turns on his heel with nary a look as Slim slumps against the wall, one foot propped up against it. Edge was going to run this place ragged, and he couldn’t wait to see it.</p><p> </p><p>Edge was… terrifyingly efficient in getting what he wanted, how he wanted it, <em> when </em> he wanted it, and as picky as he could be, they all knew he was an expected, and often, looked forward to customer at numerous luxury brand branches.</p><p> </p><p>Not that Slim really understood it. He liked clothing yeah, but not to the degree that Edge did—he doubted that anyone really came close to comparing to Edge—after all, not just anyone could get away with treating a luxury store brand like a military boot camp and be fawned over.</p><p> </p><p>Like what was happening with a staff manning the floor.</p><p> </p><p>“Back again?” By the tag their name’s Tiffany, and Slim can’t say he’s surprised that she’d interact with the spikiest of them all; Edge had a bit of a habit of becoming known. She tilts her head in his direction, “Here to pick something up for your newest compatriot?” She even winks and Slim has to tuck his skull into the fluff of his jacket to hide the way his mouth quirks up. </p><p> </p><p>When Edge does nothing but tilt his head down to peer at her over his sunglasses Slim has to play off an ugly laugh as the world’s dumbest sneeze from how hard he’s trying not to laugh. If he were anyone else in their group he’d have played along just to ruffle his feathers, but, with him still housing a dormant demon right now, Slim would rather play safe.</p><p> </p><p>“YES.” Edge says plainly, a hand coming up to feel the texture of a white long-sleeved button up with faint stripes. As he was saying, Slim didn’t know enough about fashion to really commit the various types to memory. He can only stare as Edge rattles off several requirements (or he thinks they’re requirements?) before the woman gives a chipper agreement and speeds off. </p><p> </p><p>Even with her helping all Slim can really do is watch in a muted kind of horror as Edge piles up various shirts, pants, and something that looks <em> transparent </em>and makes his way back over.</p><p> </p><p>Edge has always been a striking figure tall, lean, with power held with the tight control of a man who’s been through more than his fair share, but now he towers over the humans in stilettos that no person should be able to wear, looking more like a god of war set out a siege than a man simply gathering clothing.  </p><p> </p><p>If Slim wasn’t so terrified of the pile that just keeps on growing, well, actually now that he has his wits about him—to a degree—he isn’t really sure what he’d do? Take a picture to commemorate Edge's ever growing album of himself? Text the group chat his will? Slim simply had no clue. </p><p> </p><p>But he knew one thing; he was too young to die. So he does what any sane man would do. </p><p> </p><p>He begs. “wait wait wait!” He says glancing at the precariously leaning pile of clothes—hah, the leaning tower of pantza—with a nervous grin. “that’s, uh, that’s a lot for a first time,” Slim points out, sneaking even more desperate looks at the pile as Edge comes closer. That was going to <em> fall </em>and he was so not in the mood to deal with the fallout. Pun intended. “i, uh, i ain’t really built for that, chief, you know noodle limbs and chronic fatigue.” </p><p> </p><p>The smirk Edge sends his way makes him think of a shark set on blood. “OH, BUT DON’T YOU KNOW?” He snags at the collar of Slim’s coat as he drags him toward one of the bigger dressing rooms, keeping his pace steady and calm even as Slim has to hop with how far Edge has tugged him down. Why had he agreed to this? “I’VE NEVER BEEN ONE TO HALF-ASS THINGS. SO BE READY FOR SOME EFFORT.”</p><p> </p><p>“this is harassment,” Slim says mulishly, not making a move to get out of the group. An attendant gives them a curious look before handing over a room card. Almost hesitantly, he might add. “why do i have to do this? why can’t i just be comfy?”</p><p> </p><p>“THESE ARE COMFY.” Edge says with a roll of his eyes as he leads Slim inside and then immediately settles on the little bench, knee propped up so he can rest his chin. “NOW STRIP.” </p><p> </p><p>Slim grumbles his fingers working efficiently to work off his coat (which Edge snatches up before it can hit the floor), his turtleneck and pants which are just as quickly snatched up and put aside neatly. Edge’s dislike for anything getting dirty could really be called a superpower sometimes. </p><p> </p><p>He stands with his arms out and a brow-bone quirked up. Edge hums, looking over him with a critical eye, and if it were anyone else Slim would feel as if he was being judged; the scars and cracks on his arms typically something he was the most nervous about anyone seeing. But Edge didn’t see those, never commented on the things he was ever really sensitive about, instead when Edge looked at people he saw a canvas. </p><p> </p><p>Edge taps a finger to his cheek-bone contemplatively. “WE’LL START WITH THE BULKIER STUFF AND WORK THAT WAY.” He sections out a few things away from the pile. “THESE FIRST.” </p><p> </p><p>And that’s how Slim finds him dressing, stripping, and then re-dressing again. All to the tune of Edge’s riveting commentary of:</p><p> </p><p>“ABSOLUTELY NOT.”</p><p> </p><p>“UGH, THAT’S ABOUT AS ATTRACTIVE AS AN OLD MAN IN HOTPANTS.”</p><p> </p><p>“IF YOU SO DARE AS EVEN TRY TO WALK OUT IN THAT MESS OF A CHRISTMAS TREE I WILL CUT YOU DOWN MYSELF.”</p><p> </p><p>And the occasional:</p><p> </p><p>A finger tap against his cheek-bones. “THAT IS… ACCEPTABLE. SLIMMING EVEN. TRY THE OTHER COLORS.”</p><p> </p><p>“CUTE. PERHAPS NOT YOUR STYLE FOR OUTDOOR WEAR, BUT WE’LL GET IT FOR HOME.”</p><p> </p><p>The decisive, “WE’RE NOT PUTTING THAT BACK. IT’D BE A WASTE TO.”</p><p> </p><p>And the ever super rare, “YOU LOOK… NICE IN THIS.” Simple, but effective.</p><p> </p><p>By the end of what Slim is sure has to be over sixty different outfits—because there is no way it could be any less, he refused to believe it—they only get about half and Slim is sure his expression has shifted a newfound horror at the price. Sure, somehow Edge has managed to haggle (terrify) the price down in a way that he’s sure is actually illegal but the price is still ridiculously high. </p><p> </p><p>It kind of makes him think about how much gold the underground really had. A terrifying amount. And the various rulers of each verse had somehow banded together to keep that abundance a secret so that monsters could essentially live in luxury if they chose to. Though many, including them, tended to put that money into other pursuits; charity being the largest from most of them.</p><p> </p><p>Edge really is one of a kind to not even gape at that price. </p><p> </p><p>Without a word (mainly because Slim isn’t sure he’d be able to muster any) he takes the bags from Edge’s hands before he’s being tugged out, his legs working on autopilot. </p><p> </p><p>He clears his throat after a minute of walking, “are you uh…” Slim stops just in time to avoid pumping into Edge’s back and sending them both domino-ing toward the floor. Edge might actually kill him if he gets any of this dirty. He looks down. </p><p> </p><p>Edge’s gaze is firmly fixated on an overpriced ice-cream stand. Slim’s mouth makes a tiny ‘o’ when it hits him. Right, there was still… that. It’s almost impressive how long Edge has gone without mentioning a specific craving. After all, Comic had been convinced to go to the store at one in the morning to pick up cookies and cream because Edge had been in the kitchen like a little gremlin. </p><p> </p><p>Shifting the bags to the middle of his arm Slim walks around the shorter skeleton to make way for it with a quiet, “you owe me a double swirl after that.” </p><p> </p><p>Edge was like a cat. You offer him something? He wouldn’t take it, at least not without a struggle. But imply that he could get something? Hook, line, and sinker. </p><p> </p><p>“I ABSOLUTELY DO <em> NOT!” </em> Edge bristles, hurrying up after him though Slim notes with infinite amusement that he tucks Razz’s card into his pocket and instead pulls out a wad of cash. His <em> own </em>cash. All to order a double swirl of vanilla dipped in chocolate and the largest sundae Slim has ever seen in his life. </p><p> </p><p>Slim points to a shaded area, well, as shaded as a single table with an odd umbrella can be. But Edge heads that without complaint so all he can do is shrug and follow along noting with even more amusement that Edge is starting to sweat and it’s <em> windy.  </em></p><p> </p><p>“you’ll be mad at yourself if you don’t take it off now, darlin’.” Slim says with a slow grin as he tugs his chair out to sprawl out in it. Edge glowers at him, spooning a but of ice-cream into his mouth. “c’mon you know ‘m right just slip it off while ya eat.” </p><p> </p><p>The glower never disappears as Edge hands over the pristine, white coat. It was his baby, as much as clothes could be babies any way. And Slim knew with more than a <em> degree </em>of certainty that Edge would kill a man if it got dirty. Didn’t matter how. Didn’t matter who. Edge would kill them. </p><p> </p><p>So with the carefulness of a man disarming a bomb Slim tucks it into a Tom Ford bag for safe keeping; he was not risking death today. </p><p> </p><p>“so,” Slim starts, long legs stretched out under the table for maximum comfort. “where else did ya have in mind today?” A full-out chomp onto his cone that makes Edge eye him in barely hidden disgust. “or are we set for the day?” </p><p> </p><p>“YOU’RE NOT GETTING OUT OF THIS THAT EASILY.” Edge informs him, a look of disgust never leaving his face as Slim just grins, biting his ice-cream again. “WHY ARE YOU DOING THAT? IT’S WEIRD.”</p><p> </p><p>“to you maybe. it’s perfectly normal to me.” </p><p> </p><p>“NO IT’S… OBJECTIVELY ODD. WHO BITES INTO THEIR ICE CREAM?”</p><p> </p><p>“this guy,” Slim says, jerking a thumb at his chest. “and don’t you forget it.” </p><p> </p><p>“AH YES, THE VIRGIN SLIM.” Edge deadpans and Slim snorts so hard he nearly sends his ice cream flying. </p><p> </p><p>“did,” He huffs out another laugh, not missing the way Edge tries to hide a smile with a bit of his sundae. “you did! you sly beautiful bastard you fucking did!” </p><p> </p><p>Edge shrugs, not looking up from his eating. His concentration was actually kind of admirable, or it would be if Slim didn’t know the consequences. “DEFINITELY DIDN’T. YOUR HEARING IS DEFECTIVE.” Then with another mild look of disgust he tacs on, “ALMOST AS DEFECTIVE AS YOUR WAY OF EATING.”</p><p> </p><p>“a perfectly valid way of eating.” Slim refutes his grin never disappearing. The longer he stares the more Edge starts to sink into his seat, sundae tugged close as if he’s at war with finishing it or throwing it. “and you definitely did.” His grin widens as he leans over the table, careful to keep the bags from falling over, “are we finally rubbing off on you?” He says saccharine sweet. </p><p> </p><p>Edge pauses mid-spoonful. “DO I LOOK LIKE I’VE BEEN INFECTED BY YOUR IDIOCY?” </p><p> </p><p>Slim shrugs. “in a kind of uppity, grandma learns what the what are those jokes.” Edge narrows his sockets in a glare as Slim gestures downward with a dopey grin, “speaking of, what <em> are </em>those?”</p><p> </p><p>“MY STILETTOS.” Edge hisses. “THEY’RE SAINT LAURENT SHOES.” </p><p> </p><p>“well you’re saintly in how you haven’t committed homicide.” Slim allows before going back to his ice-cream, slumping back into his seat. “so what’s on the itinerary?” </p><p> </p><p>“DON’T TEMPT ME.” Edge replies wryly. “DOLCE &amp; GABBANA. POSSIBLY A NEW WATCH FOR RAZZ SINCE HIS HAS BROKE ONCE AGAIN.”</p><p> </p><p>Slim wisely doesn’t bring up how he broke it. Admitting that Razz did the <em> dishes </em>with it on and then promptly destroying it on accident, yeah no, he wasn’t going to sentence him to death like that. Now if Razz himself admitted it? Slim would gladly grab some popcorn and watch the ensuing apocalypse.</p><p> </p><p>And probably record in case the others missed it. </p><p> </p><p>“guess we should get a move on then, huh darlin’?” Slim says with not even a twitch to get out of his seat. </p><p> </p><p>Edge rolls his eyes propping his legs up on the only other empty chair at the table. “I GUESS I CAN LET A PEASANT LIKE YOURSELF REST A BIT.”</p><p> </p><p>“uh-huh,” Slim says unconvinced as he slips his phone out of his jacket pocket to send a few texts Razz’s way. “not just because you’re still working on that monstrosity you call a snack.” </p><p> </p><p>Edge just huffs. </p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>Pick up ice-cream on your way back</p><p>If rn is anything to go by</p><p>Well need it</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Razzalicious </em>
</p><p>I’m to assume he’s killed a man</p><p>That’s the only reason we’d get ice-cream if <em> you </em>asked</p><p> </p><p>…</p><p>I am DISGUSTED i am REVOLTED at this</p><p>Fine. suffer</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Razzalicious </em>
</p><p>What does any of that even <em> mean </em></p><p> </p><p>Nothing grandpa</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Razzalicious </em>
</p><p>I can and will take you out of this world</p><p> </p><p>I spill about your watch</p><p>I will take him to burberry</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Razzalicious </em>
</p><p>All is fine</p><p>Nothing to see here</p><p> </p><p>…</p><p>Yknow what ill take it</p><p> </p><p>***</p><p> </p><p>He’s been sitting on this bench for what has to be an hour, a burger and fries clutched securely in hand despite the looks of the workers—all because Edge’s glare was more power—so yeah, Slim was sitting pretty with food. Hell, they weren’t even <em> in </em>Dolce &amp; Gabbana anymore. Slim had no clue what store they were at now.</p><p> </p><p>The food had been retrieved like five minutes ago, but still, offering up commentary and sitting still was a chore and Slim would be paid for it!</p><p> </p><p>He swallows the current bit when Edge steps out from the booth once more. They’d already set aside a few things, some skirts, a really nice ruffly top, something with flowers on it? He could be wrong, but they looked like flowers. They were bright and colorful and had petals, so he was 60% sure it was flowers and not something completely different; Slim never really knew though, not with luxury brands. </p><p> </p><p>This time Edge is a crop top, it’s cute, white, with pink lettering on it to spell out the word devil (which is accurate. Slim would give him that), a skirt-short mix-up? He didn’t know what it was called but it was interesting. And probably the only thing he did know the term of: a nice blue denim jacket. </p><p> </p><p>“you are as treacherous as the devil,” Slim says, careful to keep his greasy food from touching well, everything. He isn’t sure who would kill him quicker: the employees or Edge. Probably Edge. </p><p> </p><p>Without even a reply Edge walks over and flicks him in the head hard enough for it to make him wince. He rubs at it, “yeah, sorry, had it comin’.”</p><p> </p><p>“YOU DID.” Edge agrees. “YOU SHOULD TRY ON SOMETHING NEW.” </p><p> </p><p>“you’re not getting me in a skirt.” </p><p> </p><p>“YOU SHOULD TRY IT. HIGHLY RECOMMENDED.” Edge replies easily, fixing the laces of his boots. “PEOPLE ARE ATTRACTED TO CONFIDENCE.” </p><p> </p><p>Slim just hums taking another munch of his burger as he continues to scroll through twitter, looking over every cute dog picture he can find. “yeah, well i really don’ think it’d be a good idea to put me in one.” He stretches out one leg. “y’see that? soon as i wear a skirt ‘m flashin’ somebody.” </p><p> </p><p>Edge looks at his leg consideringly. “YOU DO HAVE A POINT THERE. AND I FOR ONE, WOULD NOT BE BAILING YOU OUT OF JAIL.” </p><p> </p><p>Slim pouts, fake and insincere as he knocks their shoulders together. “‘m guessin’ you ain’t changed for a reason, huh?”</p><p> </p><p>There’s a pat to his cheek that barely gets him to look away from a video of a puppy chasing after a bigger dog to play. Slim makes a cooing noise around his burger, even as Edge gives him a mild look of repulsion. </p><p> </p><p>“MAYBE I SHOULDN’T ASK YOU.” He says with thinly veiled disgust when Slim licks a bit of ketchup off his finger instead of using a napkin.</p><p> </p><p>“nah darlin’ lemme hear it?” </p><p> </p><p>“YOU’RE NOT TOUCHING MY PHONE WITH THOSE HANDS OF YOURS.”</p><p> </p><p>“then gimme a wipe.” </p><p> </p><p>“SEVERAL WIPES I THINK YOU MEAN.” Edge says with a sniff. Slim just rolls his eyes taking the one’s handed to him without complaint. </p><p> </p><p>“you should look for a matching outfit that says ‘your angle’ on it,” He says, slipping his own phone back into his pocket.</p><p> </p><p>“I AM NOT CHANGING THE TEXT TO ‘YUOR DEVIL’ JUST FOR THE ME.” </p><p> </p><p>“you should do it. people love memes.” </p><p> </p><p>“I HAVE AN IMAGE TO UPHOLD.” Edge informs him with a huff. He hands his own phone over without a fuss, already posing before Slim can get the camera app open. </p><p> </p><p>To be honest, Slim had no understanding of how he made money from this, but he did so they just kept at it. Plus, when he was done being serious Slim could usually convince him to do something silly to send to everyone else.</p><p> </p><p>He couldn’t be serious all the time. They had an entire meme folder with the various stupid and/or ugly faces they’ve all made some point in their lives. Edge was not free from it. </p><p> </p><p>“we’re goin’ home after this yeah?” </p><p> </p><p>Edge gives him a look of exasperated fondness as he nods. Slim just beams, dopey and lop-sided before devouring the last bit of his burger in one bit to finish taking the pictures he wants. </p><p> </p><p>***</p><p> </p><p>When Stretch get’s home and the first thing he sees is an Edge-Certified-Pile on the couch that includes the monster himself and Slim practically pretzled he raises a brow. Then, with a shrug he bypasses the pile to change out of the stuffy suit he was forced to wear for a meeting. </p><p> </p><p>Proper cuddling and death defying tactics would not be achieved without the proper clothing; which just so happened to be a snuggie. </p><p> </p><p>Not even a few minutes after he’s fitting himself into the pile ignoring the growl from Edge when he shoves him to the side to fit in between the back of the couch and the rest. “oh shut it,” Stretch huffs, slinging an arm around them both ignoring the brief bit of pain that comes from Slim’s head bonking against his own. He was out cold already it seemed. “you would’ve come and dragged me to cuddle sooner or later anyway.” </p><p> </p><p>“AS IF.” It’s mumbled back more than anything else. None of the usual playful snark or pomp, more slow, warm, a contented kind of comfortable. The kind that makes Stretch think of a nice book while curled up under a nice blanket with some candles. “I’D NEVER DO SUCH A THING. YOU’RE ALL TERRIBLE.”</p><p> </p><p>“mmhm,” He hums unconvinced. “yet you ain’t kicked me out yet.” </p><p> </p><p>“YOU’LL KICK YOURSELF OUT.”</p><p> </p><p>“nah, not likely,” </p><p> </p><p>A hand presses against his jaw when Slim nearly crushes them both with his shifting.</p><p> </p><p>“AS I SAID. TERRIBLE.” </p><p> </p><p>Stretch just laughs breathy and quiet to keep the third of their pile from waking up. “go to your own room then.”</p><p> </p><p>“NO I WAS HERE FIRST.”</p><p> </p><p>“you don’t own the couch.” </p><p> </p><p>“NO PUT I OWN WHERE I PUT MY ASS TO SLEEP.” </p><p> </p><p>“... fair.” </p><p> </p><p>Edge swats him, no real power behind it and Stretch can’t keep in the snort when he notices the assortment of clothes stolen today. Another sweater, who’s it was? No clue. Clothes got passed around like candy here.</p><p> </p><p>“SHUT UP.” </p><p> </p><p>“mmhm,”</p><p> </p><p>“CAN HEAR YOUR DAMN THINKING.”</p><p> </p><p>“‘m allowed to think,” </p><p> </p><p>“YOU DON’T EVEN HAVE A BRAIN.”</p><p> </p><p>“guess we should go see the wizard then shouldn’t we?” </p><p> </p><p>“both of you… shut it,” It’s mumbled into a pillow exactly where Slim’s face is. “this is jail time for edge. he ate an entire pack of chocolate and chips like an idiot.” He squeezes them both even as Edge’s face heats in embarrassment, Stretch laughing all the while. “jail time, sleep, cuddle, accept punishment.”</p><p> </p><p>“I HATE YOU ALL.” </p><p> </p><p>“mmhm,” Stretch hums, again, still unconvinced. He boops Edge’s nose bridge despite the warning hiss. “have a <em> heart,” </em></p><p> </p><p>
  <em> “I WILL BEAT YOU TO DEATH WITH YOUR OWN ARM.” </em>
</p><p> </p><p>“try it,” </p><p> </p><p>“stretch <em> no,” </em>Slim says exasperated. He shifts so that he’s now a barrier in between them, arms firmly clamped around Edge to keep him from lunging. “stop fuckin’ wit’ him. y’don’t have life insurance,” </p><p> </p><p>“‘cause ‘m dead.” </p><p> </p><p>“NO YOU’RE NOT YOU WALKING POT OF HONEY.”</p><p> </p><p>“aww didn’t know you thought so <em> sweetly, </em> of me honey.” Stretch cackles when Edge reaches for his face between the gap of Slim’s arm.</p><p> </p><p>“<em> no,” </em> Slim huffs, shifting once more until he’s practically lying on top of the cat they call a skeleton. “ <em> cuddle.”  </em></p><p> </p><p>“I DON’T WANT TO CUDDLE I WANT TO MURDER!”</p><p> </p><p>“yeah, yeah,” Stretch says, smirking like the dumbass getting ready to poke the bear. “we get it you care about two things both on an’ off your period: food an’ world domination.” </p><p> </p><p>“YOU FORGOT MURDER.” Edge say, and if Stretch was a dumber monster, he’d say it was petulant. But because he did value living to a degree he doesn’t.</p><p> </p><p>“an’ murder,” Stretch amends. “you’ve had your food an’ you aren’t doing any of that so shut it an’ cuddle.” </p><p> </p><p>Edge grumbles making another half-assed swipe for his face that Slim grunts at.</p><p> </p><p>“i will actually sit on you if you don’t stop.” </p><p> </p><p>“YOU WOULDN’T DARE.”</p><p> </p><p>Stretch sits up, looking more like a caterpillar in an ugly cocoon than a skeleton. Slim cracks open a socket, “do it and i will let him go.”</p><p> </p><p>He sits right back down.</p><p> </p><p>“tha’s what i thought.”</p><p> </p><p>***</p><p> </p><p>“WHAT THE FUCK IS THAT.” Razz grunts when Edge flops over his legs like a sack of potatoes. He had something strapped to his <em> head.  </em></p><p> </p><p>“LANGUAGE.” Puff huffs from the kitchen. Their radio was on playing one of the cooking channels he always tried to follow along to. “WE AGREED NO CURSING ON THE WEEKENDS OR BLUE WOULD USE HIS CURSING SOCK.”</p><p> </p><p>“‘s pretty damn effective,” Comic says from the other couch, a magazine draped over his face. Razz looks at him briefly in concern before shrugging it off. It was none of his business. </p><p> </p><p>“A GO-PRO YOU UNCIVILIZED OGRE.” Razz gives him a bland look. Edge gives an over-dramatic sigh, not even making a move to remove from his chosen pillow of the hour. Razz shoves him onto the carpeted floor. “REALLY?”</p><p> </p><p>“YES REALLY,” He says, snatching up the remote from the table to put on the news. “CALL ME AN OGRE AND YOU’LL GET TREATED LIKE I’M ONE.” </p><p> </p><p>“WELL I WAS RAISED TO NEVER LIE.”</p><p> </p><p>“WE BOTH KNOW THAT’S A FUCKING—OW! WHAT THE FUCK—OW!” </p><p> </p><p>“WE HAD AN AGREEMENT.” Blue says cheerily, holding his sock as if he <em> hadn’t </em>just socked Razz over the head with it. </p><p> </p><p>“AN AGREEMENT MY ASS!”</p><p> </p><p>Blue lifts the sock a little higher, smile never leaving his face. “IT CAN BE NEXT TIME.” </p><p> </p><p>“ON SECOND THOUGHT WHAT DOES CURSING REALLY ACCOMPLISH ON THE WEEKENDS?” Razz says thoroughly cowed as Edge snorts. </p><p> </p><p>“AND THAT DEAR VIEWERS,” Edge starts, amusement dripping with every word, “IS HOW TO GET YOUR UNRULY ROOMMATE TO BEHAVE. HOW DID YOU PUT IT BLUE?” </p><p> </p><p>“EVERY TIME YOU CURSE ON THE WEEKENDS YOU ADD A QUARTER TO YOUR NO CURSING SOCK SO EVENTUALLY YOU HAVE AN INCENTIVE FOR THEM TO STOP.”</p><p> </p><p>“YOU’RE NOT REALLY RECORDING THIS ARE YOU?” Razz says wearily, a hand cradling the sore spot on his head. It was more sock than coin and Blue had a masterful hold on it to make sure it didn’t do any real damage. </p><p> </p><p>“OF COURSE I AM.” </p><p> </p><p>He pinches at his nose bridge. After a moment of silent contemplation he heaves a sigh, relaxes into the couch and says, “YOU KNOW WHAT? FINE. FINE, <em> WHY </em>ARE YOU DOING THIS?”</p><p> </p><p>“REQUESTS TO SEE THE PLACE AND FOR SOME UNGODLY REASON MEET YOU ALL.” </p><p> </p><p>“YOU’RE GOING TO GET US ROBBED.”</p><p> </p><p>“WE’RE NOT GOING TO GET ROBBED.” Edge denies puffing up defensively.</p><p> </p><p>Razz drags a tired hand from the top of his brow all the way down to his jaw, gesturing in a way that clearly says he thinks Edge is being stupid. </p><p> </p><p>“WE’RE NOT!”</p><p> </p><p>“FOR ONCE—” </p><p> </p><p>“FOR ONCE MY ASS, BLUE!” </p><p> </p><p>Blue levels him with a look not letting up until Edge, too, is cowed. “FOR <em> ONCE,” </em>He repeats, “I AGREE WITH YOU. STRETCH IS GREAT AT EDITING OR BLURRING OUT WHAT HAS TO BE BLURRED. THIS ISN’T LIVE, RIGHT?”</p><p> </p><p>“I’M INSULTED THAT YOU THINK I’D EVER BE THAT STUPID.”</p><p> </p><p>He shrugs. “YOU’RE THE SAME GUY THAT ATE SOUR CREAM CHIPS DIPPED IN WHIPPED CREAM. I HAVE NO CLUE HOW STUPID YOU ARE.” </p><p> </p><p>Razz snorts. “DID YOU REALLY?” At the rapid reddening of Edge’s skull he convulses in laughter, squeezing around his middle. </p><p> </p><p>“IT WAS <em> ONCE!” </em>Edge hisses finally getting up and off the floor to try and cover Razz’s mouth. </p><p> </p><p>“HE’S GOING TO LICK—”</p><p> </p><p>A yell of outrage. </p><p> </p><p>Blue sighs going to sit down after his warning was thoroughly ignored. Puff pops his head in from the kitchen, “WHO’S DIED?”</p><p> </p><p>“RAZZ.” He returns blandly. There’s a thump behind him as well as Razz’s incessant hyena cackling. “HE WANTS AN OPEN CASKET.” </p><p> </p><p>“an’ hydrangeas,” Comic pipes up from his undisturbed position on the couch. Magazine still untouched. “i quote ‘leave my eyes open i do not think this… is a good look for me—”</p><p> </p><p>“I SWEAR TO GOD IF YOU DON’T STOP QUOTING THAT VINE I WILL KILL YOU FIRST!” Razz hisses mid laughing attacks as he keeps Edge at bay with his heel. Blue just sinks further into his seat. </p><p> </p><p>“HEY PUFF?” Blue says not even trying to come out of his slump. There’s a hum from the kitchen. “DO WE HAVE ANY MORE SCOTCH?”</p><p> </p><p>“IT’S TOO EARLY FOR SCOTCH.” </p><p> </p><p>He groans. Still on the floor Comic has been tugged into the tussle. </p><p> </p><p>“GET YOUR DISGUSTING HANDS OFF MY FACE!”</p><p> </p><p>“<em> MY </em>DISGUSTING HANDS? I JUST GOT THEM MANICURED YOU UNCIVILIZED CRETIN—YOU JUST LICKED ME!”</p><p> </p><p>“can i get a waffle? can i please get a waffle?” </p><p> </p><p>“DOES THIS <em> LOOK </em>LIKE A WAFFLE HOUSE?” is chorused together as a growl.</p><p> </p><p>Legs rest on the arm of the couch as Dumb and Dumber continue their squabbling and Blue looks up through his fingers to see Stretch sprawled out in a new snuggie. </p><p> </p><p>“OH NO,” He says in horror, sneaking a paranoid glance Edge’s way. “PLEASE TELL ME HE DIDN’T GET YOU TOO?”</p><p> </p><p>Stretch laughs. “nah, bought it cause my other one got a stain that wouldn’t come out.”</p><p> </p><p>Blue heaves a sigh of relief. </p><p> </p><p>“how long do ya think they’ll go at it this time?” </p><p> </p><p>“NOT LONG IF I HAVE ANYTHING TO SAY ABOUT IT,” Blue says in return massaging his head. Razz and Edge weren’t going at each other's necks anymore, but that didn’t mean their squabbling wasn’t distracting. i</p><p> </p><p>Stretch just looks at him curiously head not lifting from his pillows for even a second before he goes back to watching the two alley cats bicker on the floor. And Blue couldn't even confidently say what they were bickering about; they’d argue over a piece of paper if given the chance. </p><p> </p><p>It was honestly a blessing and a curse when it came to them interacting. Some days they were as thick as thieves and willing to work together—far better than Blue (or really any of them) expected—while others they couldn’t so much as be in the same room together without some kind of disaster. </p><p> </p><p>It seemed like today was the latter. </p><p> </p><p>“EDGE.” The squabbling continues. He’s pretty sure there was a yowl. “EDGE.” More squabbling and a relatively quick movement from Comic to keep Puff’s favorite vase from meeting an untimely end. Blue sighs. “I WILL PUT YOUR BOOTS IN THE <em> SHREDDER!”  </em></p><p> </p><p>It gets a pause and then Edge is whirling around, one of his hands still pushing at Razz’s head as Razz’s tongue nearly sticks out. “IF YOU SO MUCH AS TOUCH MY BABIES I WILL MAKE SURE YOU DIE SLOWLY.” </p><p> </p><p>Blue gives him a bland look. Kill or Be Killed world or not threats didn’t phase him, especially not when Edge. Edge was fucking cat who was won over with expensive things instead of food and Blue was absolutely not against using that to his advantage. </p><p> </p><p>“I AM NOT GOING TO TOUCH YOUR SHOES.” At least not yet. “YOU HAVE A VIDEO YOU’RE SUPPOSED TO BE RECORDING.” He reminds. </p><p> </p><p>“FUCK!” </p><p> </p><p>Blue holds open the sock watching in a maniacal kind of amusement as he digs a quarter out of the couch with the certainty of a rotten raccoon with several stashing spots. He drops it in with a ‘tink’ before scrambling back onto the couch tugging Razz with him. </p><p> </p><p>“OKAY FALL IN PEASANTS!” </p><p> </p><p>“DO YOU REALLY HAVE TO CALL US PEASANTS?” Razz says aggrieved. “AT LEAST ON CAMERA?” </p><p> </p><p>“DO YOU WANT IT TO BE AUTHENTIC OR NOT?”</p><p> </p><p>The sigh he gives could almost be described as defeated. Though if any of them so much as uttered a word heading toward that direction Razz would rain down unholy revenge against them. Or at least that’s what he’d say. </p><p> </p><p>Blue (And everyone else) knew better than to trust it with more than a grain of salt at this point in their lives.</p><p> </p><p>But as Razz ends up taking most of the screen time besides Edge himself, the video to introduce the apartment and subsequently everyone else, goes a bit like this:</p><p> </p><p>
  <span class="u"> <em> Section 1: Razz + Den </em> </span>
</p><p> </p><p>“WHO WEARS <em> PAJAMAS  </em>FOR AN INTERVIEW,” Edge huffs practically squished into the corner of the couch. He’d finally been convinced to use a normal camera like a normal person. “YOU LOOK GROSS.”</p><p> </p><p>“WE’RE BOTH GROSS OKAY,” Razz returns just as huffy as he keeps him hip-checked into the corner. “AND YOU’RE THE ONE MAKING ME DO THIS.” </p><p> </p><p>“I’M NOT MAKING YOU. PEOPLE WANTED TO SEE YOU—FOR A REASON I WILL NEVER UNDERSTAND.” </p><p> </p><p>“BECAUSE I’M HOT.” Razz returns smugly. “THAT’S WHY. WATCH OUT PRINCESS MIGHT STEAL YOUR ENTOURAGE.” </p><p> </p><p>“AS IF. THEY’LL SEE HOW UNCOUTH YOU REALLY ARE.” Edge says back with a sniff, weaseling his way out of the couch corner. “MOVING ON THIS IS THE LIVING ROOM.” He does a little general spin as Razz snorts.</p><p> </p><p>“YEAH NO SHIT SHERLOCK.” </p><p> </p><p>Edge looks him dead in the eye. “THANK YOU, FOR THAT RIVETING COMMENTARY. YOU’RE LUCKY THIS GIVES YOU IMMUNITY FROM BLUE.” </p><p> </p><p>Razz stretches out still smirking, one ankle crossing over the other as if he was some high class individual, and not just a nerd who hid it well. “WHY ELSE WOULD I HAVE AGREED? BUT ALAS SINCE YOU DECIDED TO PUT YOUR ASS ON THE INTERNET YOU HAVE TO SHOW THE PLACE OFF ON THE INTERNET—BESIDES THE FRONT.”</p><p> </p><p>“YOU REALIZE THAT I AM NO WHERE NEAR THAT STUPID.” </p><p> </p><p>“<em> YOU </em> ASKED <em> ME </em>TO DO THIS LITTLE VIDEO. YOUR STANDARDS OF INTELLIGENCE ARE ABYSMAL.” </p><p> </p><p>“AND YET YOU AGREED SO WHO’S THE REAL DUMBASS?”</p><p> </p><p>“I… YOU.” Razz gapes.</p><p> </p><p>Edge gives a smirk of his own. “THAT’S WHAT I THOUGHT. ANYWAY MOVING ON FROM THE IDIOT I CALL ONE OF MY ROOMMATES,” </p><p> </p><p>“I LITERALLY PAY THE MOST BILLS. YOU ARE A FREELOADER.”</p><p> </p><p>“BESIDES THE POINT!” </p><p> </p><p>“IT’S DEFINITELY THE MAIN POINT.”</p><p> </p><p>“DEFINITELY IS NOT.” Edge huffs, again. He moves the camera slower this time to show off the den in its entirety.</p><p> </p><p>The floor to ceiling windows, the pristine, clean couches. Razz sprawled our in his fucking pajamas and giving a lazy wave with a quick, “WELCOME TO THE SNOBBISH RICH PEOPLE CHANNEL. I’M YOUR HOST, WITH MY TERRIBLE ASSISTANT BEHIND THE CAMERA.”</p><p> </p><p>A bird pops up in front of the lens. Razz just beams.</p><p> </p><p>
  <span class="u"> <em>Section 2: Stretch + Terrace</em> </span>
</p><p> </p><p>Edge shifts the grip on his camera to show Stretch in his Snuggie. Bright pink this time instead of orange.</p><p> </p><p>He doesn’t even get up from the little hammock they’ve set up since they got the place.</p><p> </p><p>“YOU GOING TO INTRODUCE YOURSELF?” Edge says amused foot rocking the hammock back and forth out of boredom.</p><p> </p><p>“mmhm?”</p><p> </p><p>“WHO ARE YOU? OR AM I JUST SUPPOSED TO CALL YOU THE BREAKFAST BURRITO ON OUR BALCONY?”</p><p> </p><p>“‘s an improvement from peasant.” Stretch admits twisting around to show his face. ‘m stretch and welcome to the disney channel.” He then proceeds to try and move his head like the symbol.</p><p> </p><p>“YOU’RE GOING TO GET US SUED.”</p><p> </p><p>“... wait really?”</p><p> </p><p>“IT’S DISNEY, STRETCH.” Edge says plainly. “WHEN DO THEY NOT SUE FOR THE SLIGHTEST OFFENSE?” </p><p> </p><p>“oh shit you’re right.” </p><p> </p><p>Snorting Edge tries to steer the conversation into a different direction. “MOVING ON FROM THAT, WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE THING ABOUT THE TERRACE?”</p><p> </p><p>Stretch perks up nearly falling face first off the hammock in his excitement. It takes more than a few minutes for him to even wriggle out of his snuggie like a caterpillar getting ready to transform. Except Stretch’s transformation is into khaki shorts and the ugliest lime green t-shirt Edge has ever seen in his life. </p><p> </p><p>“YOU LOOK LIKE SLIMER,” He says with disdain, keeping the camera on him as he scrambles over to the opposite side of the terrace. </p><p> </p><p>Stretch shushes him motioning over to the little tree on the table. With an extravagant flourish of his arm he says, “this is our bonsai,” A pause, then, “what do we name the bonsai?”</p><p> </p><p>“WHY WOULD WE NAME THE BONSAI?” <br/>
<br/>
</p><p>“why <em> wouldn’t </em>we name the bonsai?” Stretch returns with a self-satisfied smile.</p><p> </p><p>Edge blinks, an incredulous twitch to his brow. Slowly he says, “I DON’T KNOW.” Then even slower, a touch of weariness to his words he continues, “WHAT DO YOU WANT TO NAME IT? RACHEL?”</p><p> </p><p>“fred.” Stretch says with a smug look. “fred the bonsai.” </p><p> </p><p>There’s the definitive sound of bone hitting bone as Edge face-palms.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> <span class="u"> Section 3: Comic + Study </span> </em>
</p><p> </p><p>“AND WHAT IS THAT?” Edge says amused panning the camera down to look over a small shelf. It’s packed full of figurines, movies, books, and boxes unopened.</p><p> </p><p>“weeb shit,” Comic informs him, spinning around in his chair. Edge is about 90% certain that he changed into the Mew Mew Kissy Cutie shirt just to fuck with him. He points to another shelf. “and if you look over there,” </p><p> </p><p>Edge pans the camera again trying not to groan on camera at <em> Blue’s </em>collection of figurines. “we got more weeb shit,” Comic continues, his grin widening as if he isn’t slowly killing him.</p><p> </p><p>“WOULD… WOULD YOU LIKE TO EXPLAIN WHAT THAT IS FOR THE VIEWERS,” Edge asks in a great amount of pain. “OR ARE YOU CONTENT WITH MAKING ME SUFFER?”</p><p> </p><p>He taps a finger against his jaw, “i mean… ‘m not against watching you suffer for the decision you made.”</p><p> </p><p>“I TRIED TO DO SOMETHING NICE FOR YOU GUYS AND THIS IS WHAT I GO THROUGH,” Edge informs the camera with a bland look. The view shifts once more when the door to the study clicks open.</p><p> </p><p>There Blue stands a confused wrinkle to his face as he looks between where Edge is on the couch and Comic is spinning in his chair. He then watches as the camera goes back to his collection and then back over to him.</p><p> </p><p>A light blue suffuses through his cheeks. “<em> NO,” </em>He says quickly and two matching grins form on the faces of the skeletons opposite of him, Blue takes a step back, “NO. I DON’T WANT TO TALK ABOUT THEM.”</p><p> </p><p>“oh c’mon cap’n’crunch,” Comic says with a gleam in his socket. With uncharacteristically deft fingers grabbing a box with Fate/Grand Order character Merlin in it. He takes care in how he handles it, setting it carefully on the desk. “tell us about your collection obsession.” </p><p> </p><p>“WEEB SHIT.” Blue sighs collapsing on the couch next to Edge. “AND DON’T GET ANY OIL ON IT! WHO KNOWS WHAT YOU’VE ATE TODAY!”</p><p> </p><p>Comic rolls his eyes leaning closer to the box to look it over. Edge snorts watching as he nearly falls off the chair, “‘s fine. no smudges, but <em> tell </em>us about it.” </p><p> </p><p>Edge points the camera at Blue’s face watching the steady shift of his face: confusion, curiosity, excitement and then the all too laughter inducing horror. He snorts trying to cover the noise as a cough. </p><p> </p><p>“I DIDN’T <em> PLAY </em>IT!” Blue hurries to say as Comic looks like the cat that got the cream. “I JUST THOUGHT IT LOOKED COOL!” </p><p> </p><p>“uh-huh,” He says unconvinced.</p><p> </p><p>“I DIDN’T!” </p><p> </p><p>“‘kay,” </p><p> </p><p>“I SWEAR! I JUST LIKED THE FIGURE!” </p><p> </p><p>“YOU KNOW HE’S DOING IT TO MESS WITH YOU YEAH?” Edge says finally taking mercy on him. “PUT IT UP COMIC BEFORE HE HAS ANEURYSM DEFENDING SOMETHING HE NEVER DID.” </p><p> </p><p>“you take out all the fun,” </p><p> </p><p>
  <span class="u"> <em> Section 4: Red/Puff + Kitchen </em> </span>
</p><p> </p><p>Edge balances on a stool Red next to him munching on a sandwich, and behind <em> him </em>is Puff, rummaging about in the cupboards looking for something. “SO.” He starts, moving the camera to Red’s face. “DO YOU WANT TO TELL ME WHAT THAT IS?” He then moves the camera to show off a little egg looking creature on top of their fridge. </p><p> </p><p>“i got a box,” Red says around a mouthful of sandwich. A ham and Swiss on pumpernickel to be exact. Edge was just thankful to see there wasn’t an exorbitant amount of mustard on it. “‘s a box you get shit in every month.” </p><p> </p><p>“A SUBSCRIPTION BOX.” Edge offers up. Red just hums stuffing more of his sandwich into his mouth before awkwardly leaning toward the counter to twitch the tip of his fingers at a bag of chips to try and grab it. Edge chokes on a snort when his stool wobbles and nearly falls. </p><p> </p><p>There’s a kick to his leg in retribution, “ya coulda helped me asshole!”</p><p> </p><p>“I <em> COULD </em>HAVE,” Edge says, still snorting, “BUT I DIDN’T WANT TO.”</p><p> </p><p>“bitch.”</p><p> </p><p>“INGRATE.”</p><p> </p><p>“clown.”</p><p> </p><p>“BASTARD.”</p><p> </p><p>“CHILDREN,” Puff pipes up, leveling them both with a look of such intense disappointment that it could rival the sun. “BACK ON TOPIC OR TAKE IT SOMEWHERE ELSE.”</p><p> </p><p>“no if we leave blue’ll get us with his fuckin’ sock.” </p><p> </p><p>“THEN BACK ON TOPIC IT IS.”</p><p> </p><p>Red grumbles. WIth another roll of his eyes Edge settles the camera back on him, “DO YOU REMEMBER WHAT BOX IT WAS?”</p><p> </p><p>“somethin’ cute? i don’t know it was somethin’ puff’s alphys convinced me to do,” Then as if an audible ‘ding’ goes off Red looks up, “puff! you remember the box!”</p><p> </p><p>“THAT YOU GOT THE EGG FROM?”</p><p> </p><p>“uh yea what else would i fuckin’ ask about right now?” </p><p> </p><p>“IT NEVER HURTS TO DOUBLE CHECK.” Puff pauses his brow-bones scrunching. “A DOKI SOMETHING?”</p><p> </p><p>Red’s face scrunches up, “oh yeah… weeb shit.”</p><p> </p><p>Edge raises a brow. “AND YOU PUT IT ON OUR FRIDGE?”</p><p> </p><p>“IT’S A LITTLE EGG FRIEND!” Puff protests moving the freezer door. The little thing doesn’t fall even as he rapidly opens and closes it. “SEE! I THINK IT’S CUTE.” </p><p> </p><p>“yeah puff wanted it. i took the screaming raccoon… i think it was a raccoon?” </p><p> </p><p>“YOU DON’T KNOW?” Edge asks, his brow ticked even higher. “AND YOU ALL SAY I SPEND MONEY TERRIBLY.”</p><p> </p><p>“because you do,” </p><p> </p><p>“EXCUSE ME THIS ISN’T BULLYING EDGE DAY.” </p><p> </p><p>“it totally is. there is no set day <em> dipshit. </em>we bully you whenever.” </p><p> </p><p>“SLEEP WITH ONE EYE OPEN TONIGHT.”</p><p> </p><p>“or what?” Red huffs, swiping another bag of chips. They were somehow <em> mustard </em>flavored. Edge’s face twists into disgust. “ya gonna smother me?”</p><p> </p><p>“NO BUT I’LL STUFF YOU IN THE FRIDGE.”</p><p> </p><p>“PUT MORE PIZZAZZ INTO IT!” Puff chides. “AT LEAST MAKE SURE HE DOESN’T FREEZE UP LIKE A SACK OF MEAT.” </p><p> </p><p>At that they both share a look of vague horror. </p><p> </p><p>
  <em> <span class="u"> Section 5: Slim + Bedroom </span> </em>
</p><p> </p><p>The camera is on the dresser. Far from reach and the final nail in the coffin that Edge honestly should have expected. </p><p> </p><p>“LET ME GO,” Edge says with a mild amount of irritation, as he uses the one hand he got free to push at Slim’s shoulder. </p><p> </p><p>He’d been tricked. </p><p> </p><p>He’d been tricked like a child getting swindled into doing something stupid for one measly piece of chocolate. And he had no one to blame but himself. This is what Edge got for agreeing to sit on the bed instead of the bean-bag like he’d originally planned.</p><p> </p><p>It was comfy sure, but he should have <em> known. </em> Slim was a cuddle <em> fiend. </em>Would absolutely latch onto the nearest person to get his battery recharged and like an idiot Edge had agreed. And now look at the situation he’s in. </p><p> </p><p>Slim just winds around his back tighter, completely unnerved by the fuss (or as much as a fuss as Edge would really allow himself to make) as he mumbles, “this is comfier.” </p><p> </p><p>“THE HELL IT IS!”</p><p> </p><p>“it is,” Slim insists falling back into his pillows arms still koala’d around him. Edge just stares at the camera like he’s on the office.</p><p> </p><p>This is his life now.</p><p> </p><p>“YOU’RE NOT EVEN GOING TO ANSWER QUESTIONS ARE YOU?”</p><p> </p><p>“nope,” Slim says, popping the ‘p’.</p><p> </p><p>He just flops like a dead fish giving up. It wasn’t worth it.</p><p> </p><p>***</p><p> </p><p>Stretch browses through YouTube not bothering to shove off the dead weight on his shoulder as he sees a comment pop up from the account they all share. It had been a couple of days since he helped edit the video and upload it like the chaotic individual that he was. </p><p> </p><p>His eye lights nearly bug out of his head as he reads it and before he knows it his shoulders are bouncing with the willpower to keep from snorting. It’d go terribly. He had a <em> Pepsi  </em> in hand as he was scrolling, if he laughed that was going <em> everywhere.  </em></p><p> </p><p>More come after the initial one, a debate starts up over whether or not Edge is a <em> sugar baby </em>and he loses it. The Pepsi burns as he chortles the motion of his laughter waking Edge up from his first cat nap of the day and Stretch can’t even look dignified. </p><p> </p><p>The look Edge gives him could be categorized as a whole new level of abhorrence. He moves away from his shoulder looking at Stretch the same way a grandmother might look at a dead rodent. </p><p> </p><p>Somebody else walks into the den upon hearing his sputtering.</p><p> </p><p>“OH IT’S YOU,” Edge says blandly. “WE NEED ANOTHER OPEN CASKET.”</p><p> </p><p>“NOT MY JOB.” Razz says going to whack Stretch on the back to get the last of the Pepsi out. He wheezes flopping over onto his side as he shoves his face in Edge’s face.</p><p> </p><p>With a blink he plucks it from Stretch’s spasming fingers, Razz reading over his shoulder. “HUH.” He says.”</p><p> </p><p>“THAT’S ALL YOU’VE GOT?” Razz says in bafflement. “JUST ‘HUH’?”</p><p> </p><p>Edge reclines into the couch tugging Stretch up by the color of his shirt so that he doesn’t face plant, his laughter never-ending. Not looking away from the stream of comments he picks up his sparkling water to take a dainty sip. </p><p> </p><p>“WELL,” He starts, “THEY HAVE ONE THING RIGHT.” </p><p> </p><p>Razz sends him a weary look. “AND WHAT EXACTLY IS THAT.” </p><p> </p><p>“I WOULD TOTALLY WIN THE SUGAR BABY OLYMPICS IF THERE WAS SUCH A THING.”</p><p> </p><p>“YOU’RE NOT EVEN A SUGAR BABY!”</p><p> </p><p>Between them Stretch continues to wheeze. </p><p><br/>
With a groan Razz rests his head on the back of the couch. “YOU KNOW WHAT. FINE. FINE! BELIEVE WHATEVER YOU WANT.”</p><p> </p><p>“WAS THERE ANYTHING ELSE YOU WANTED TO SAY?” </p><p> </p><p>“KANSBREN’S PARTY IS THIS WEEKEND.”</p><p> </p><p>Edge looks up from his scrolling of Stretch’s phone. “BUDDY SYSTEM?”</p><p> </p><p>“BUDDY SYSTEM.” Razz agrees with a nod of his head.</p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>It's probably only going to be three chapters so we'll see how this goes.</p><p>I have a writing/headcanon blog, i guess?<br/><a href="https://little-guy-writes.tumblr.com/">the blog</a></p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Brief heads up for a mentioned/referenced attempted assault. It isn't covered in detail nor is graphically expanded upon, but I want to put the heads up here in case. And as a later thought, the pairing that is introduced was added in because I was goaded into it by my partner. As the last reminder, everything here is platonic but there are some tropes played for laughs because I honestly couldn't help myself.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Edge struts into the foyer, garment bags draped over both of his arms as he makes his way to the den. Tonight was the night of Kansbren’s parts and as much as they all disliked the man, they wouldn’t be caught dead without proper dress.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mainly because he would kill them. Personally. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“MEN,” He barks watching as both Slim and Stretch jolt up on the couch. No doubt they’d been slipping in one last nap before they went to war; they wouldn’t be returning until late after all. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Handing off the first tux to Stretch he shoos him off to change with a pointed, “YOU TREAT THAT LIKE IT’S YOUR FUCKING </span>
  <em>
    <span>CHILD </span>
  </em>
  <span>OR I WILL END YOU.” Stretch’s head bobbles like one does on a car’s dash before speeding off for his room. Edge twists on his heel to look down at Slim.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He’s still sprawled on the couch, a christmas tree of an over-sized sweater haphazardly on his frame with it’s tack baubles and colors. No doubt he’d been chasing after something in his sleep and had a wipe-out if the way the sweater is </span>
  <em>
    <span>twisted </span>
  </em>
  <span>around has anything to say. There’s even </span>
  <em>
    <span>drool </span>
  </em>
  <span>on his chin. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Edge’s socket twitches as he maneuvers one of his hands to reach for the spare handkerchief he always keeps on his person, just to toss it at Slim’s head. “CLEAN UP. AND STOP BITING THE PILLOW.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Slim blinks, long and slow and if he wasn’t so out of it from being jolted awake from his nap, Edge might have confused it for the casual affection the taller skeleton insisted on giving out. The slow blink was something they’d all picked up from him somehow or another. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“huh?”  Is the oh-so intelligent thing that Slim’s brain manages to connect to his mouth. Raising a brow Edge lifts his arms to show off the various suits, tuxes, technically if they needed to get into specifics. He blinks again, more rapidly this time before he’s jolting fully from the couch with a rushed, “ah, fuck, darlin’ i fuckin’ forgot!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Edge tsks. “OH I AM </span>
  <em>
    <span>VERY </span>
  </em>
  <span>AWARE,” Slim at least looks abashed as he slips off the tux meant for him from Edge’s arm. “YOUR PARTNER FOR THE EVENING HAS BEEN INFORMED OF WHEN WE ARE PICKING HIM UP...” He pauses looking over Slim carefully, his annoyed expression evening out into something a little softer when he realizes how frazzled he really is. “IF YOU’RE NOT REALLY COMFORTABLE WITH HIM I CAN CALL HIM AND CANCEL? YOU KNOW I CAN BE A BITCH IF ASKED.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Slim laughs, and it’s still gruff from sleep, but he notes the relieved tone to it nonetheless. He waves his hand in dismission. “no, no darlin’ ‘s okay… ‘s a one time thing an’ all.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“IF YOU’RE SURE… IF YOU NEED A DRAMATIC ESCAPE YOU KNOW THE SIGNAL.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Slim grins. “yeah, yeah i know it,” He huffs a second later, smoothing out the garment bag. “try not t’ kill razz?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I WILL PROMISE NO SUCH THING.” Edge returns easily, going back to his rampage to drop off the tuxes. He tosses one last thing over his shoulder, “IF HE’S A CREEP CUT HIS DICK OFF.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“‘m so </span>
  <em>
    <span>not </span>
  </em>
  <span>doing that!” But there’s laughter as Slim says it so Edge considers it a win on his part. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Slim wasn’t usually one to be pressured into doing things he didn’t want to do—with the too often topic being that he never brings anyone with him to events such as these. It was too often used by creepy, old, men and women to have an excuse of talking about their ‘partner’ as things to collect rather than people.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The other monster had never wanted to participate in it, but even Slim had his limits of people degrading him and so in a way he’d succumbed to finally bringing someone to an event. The problem? They were off craigslist and seemed like an incredibly vapid trust fund baby that was more likely to bully Slim than actually be a proper date. Though… now that he thinks about it, that was really just the first applicant.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Oh well, if they were? Well… </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Edge hums popping his head into Razz’s room ignoring the squawked, “DO YOU NOT KNOW HOW TO KNOCK ANYMORE?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He sniffs derisively. “AS IF THERE’S ANYTHING OF INTEREST TO LOOK AT.” Razz hisses at him throwing what looks like a </span>
  <em>
    <span>sock </span>
  </em>
  <span>his way. “YOUR TUX, PEASANT.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I AM LITERALLY YOUR BUDDY FOR THESE THINGS.” Razz deadpans taking the garment bag with more care than would be expected of him. “YOU REALIZE BY EXTENSION THAT MAKES YOU A PEASANT TOO, YES?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“HARDLY.” Edge refutes, resting all but one of the remaining bags on the hook at the top of the door. He rests his own garment bag on the bed before tugging open a few drawers. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“IF ANYTHING </span>
  <em>
    <span>I </span>
  </em>
  <span>AM THE ROYALTY TAKING YOU SOMEWHERE,” He continues, placing a few pairs of cufflinks for Razz to choose from. “AFTER ALL I’M THE ONE THAT GETS THE MOST ATTENTION OUT OF US BOTH.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“BECAUSE YOU’RE A LITERAL PEACOCK,” Razz says running a hand over the garment bag reverently. Edge rolls his eyes. They said </span>
  <em>
    <span>he </span>
  </em>
  <span>was obsessed with fashion; despite the fact that Razz was looking at that tux like it was his non-existent lover. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“PLEASE CEASE YOUR EYE-FUCKING.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Razz clicks his tongue against the roof of his mouth. “I AM SIMPLY APPRECIATING THE CRAFTSMANSHIP. “</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Edge would give him that. It was a </span>
  <em>
    <span>gorgeous </span>
  </em>
  <span>suit, a custom order just like his own to pull off their ruse (though more because they could be considered snobs). The fabric of the jacket is a deep red, a subtle striped print with a clean black lapel and Edge had no doubt that the fit would be something for people to gawk at. It was an inverse of his own suit and they would be a sight to behold, even if it was to just keep people off their backs.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And they had to act civilized for a decent amount of time. Ah, well, it was the lesser evil when it came to not wanting to interact with people. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>There was nothing to be nervous about. Why would they be when pictures all over the internet offered a glimpse into who they were most of the time? They were fucking intimidating. Articles spread across the web paint a fearsome picture of each and every one of them—with himself and Razz having particularly ruthless personas—multi-millionaires, stock market swindlers, graduates of the number one business school in the country—and not a smidgen of allowance for jokes when interacting in formal business settings. They were a lot to handle. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>To most it's hard not to feel insecure in the face of it all. But, of course, that isn’t theirs to worry about; they were indomitable, and if a ruse was what it took to be left alone by the self-serving then so be it. They’d cackle in private about how wrong people were in their assumptions. Or, if they were particularly tired, in someone’s face for assuming such a laughable thing. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“GOLD OR SILVER?” Edge prompts when he’s picked out the accessories for the night. They had to look like a united front after all—even if he might want to claw Razz’s face off at numerous points of the event. And he </span>
  <em>
    <span>would. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“GOLD.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“AND I’M THE PEACOCK.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The corner of Razz’s mouth quirks up in a ghost of a smile, “YOU </span>
  <em>
    <span>ARE. </span>
  </em>
  <span>YOU’RE THE MOST DRAMATIC PERSON I KNOW—AND I KNOW MYSELF.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“YOU’RE JUST JEALOUS YOU’RE NOT AS GLORIOUS AS ME.” Edge says tossing the cufflinks to him. He’d change after he coordinated everything. “IT’S NOT A WEAKNESS TO ADMIT IT. WE ALL KNOW IT ANYWAY.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“YOU’RE SO FULL OF YOURSELF. I’M SURPRISED THE STICK HASN’T POPPED OUT OF THE OTHER SIDE.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“UNTIL A PERSON PROVES THEY’VE GOT A BIGGER DICK THAN ME THAT’S HOW IT’S GOING TO STAY.” Edge says with a smug smirk. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“KEEP YOUR ESCAPADES TO YOURSELF.” Razz returns twisting around him to reach for his watch. It’s a Holzkern. Calm of the Emotions Collection. Edge rolls his eyes. “ANYONE THAT GETS INVOLVED WITH YOU SHOULD GET A PRE-WARNING.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“ARE THEY REALLY WORTH IT IF THEY CAN’T HANDLE ME AT MY BEST?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I THINK THE WORD YOU’RE LOOKING FOR IS WORST.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“SAME DIFFERENCE,” Edge says with a dismissive wave of his hand. “I’M A BIG PERSONALITY. IF THEY’RE INTIMIDATED THEN THEY’RE SURE AS HELL NOT GOING TO STAND YOU ALL.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“WHAT CAN WE SAY?” Razz says with a matching smirk of his own. He smooths his hands over the fabric. “WE’RE A LOT TO HANDLE.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“ABSOLUTELY TERRIBLE.” Edge nods in acknowledgment. Beside him Razz huffs the sound amused as he plucks half of the garment bags to help deliver them. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“CHOP CHOP, PRINCESS. CAN’T LET THE MICE RUN TOO FAR AWAY OR WE’LL HAVE NO PUMPKIN TO TRAVEL IN.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“TACKY.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“OH PLEASE AS IF YOU CAN TALK ABOUT TACKY WHILE DRESSED IN </span>
  <em>
    <span>THAT.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“IT’S GUCCI!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“AS IF GUCCI CAN’T BE TACKY, EDGE.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He scoffs, shooting Razz a look that could turn a meal rotten. “COMING FROM YOU? THE MAN WHO WEARS </span>
  <em>
    <span>DINOSAUR </span>
  </em>
  <span>PYJAMA PANTS? HOW DARE YOU SULLY THEIR BRAND WITH THE WORD ‘TACKY’.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Razz’s smile widens into a real grin, teeth sharp as a needle, but as welcoming as a blanket by the fire. He knocks their shoulders together. “I SEE YOU’RE IN TOP FORM.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“AS IF I’D OFFER UP ANYTHING LESS THAN MY BEST.” Edge says with a sniff. “HOW ELSE ARE WE GOING TO INTERACT WITH THE CROOKS?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“RUTHLESSLY,” Razz says with a maniacal twist to his expression. His claws curl carefully around the hangers. “GOOD TO SEE THAT YOU HAVEN’T LOST YOUR SNARK FROM FALLING AWAY FROM THE CENTER STAGE.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Edge takes the left hall as Razz takes the right. Divide and conquer was the quickest way to get the less interested monsters to hurry and get ready. “MAKE SURE TO KEEP UP.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>There’s just a cackle from behind him. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“RED!” There’s an ‘oof’ noise from down the hall and Edge rolls his eyes as he speeds toward it. He isn’t at all surprised to see his older brother sprawled out in the chair like he’d just broken his back. Nudging his shoulder with the heel of his shoe, Edge continues when it’s confirmed that he’s alive. “GET READY.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“ya not goin’ to fuckin’ help me?” Red snarls trying and failing to free himself from the clutches of his chair. Edge just smirks watching him struggle for a few minutes. Normally Red was a decently capable individual, but it was times like this that Edge wished he’d grabbed his phone. For the memories and all that. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He arches his back trying to get his leg untwisted from the arm rest and there’s an ominous crack. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“YOU ARE NOT JUST A CLOWN. YOU ARE THE ENTIRE CIRCUS.” Edge informs him with a smirk. Red glowers up at him, gold capped tooth showing off Edge’s expression like a perfect mirror. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Placing the tux on the bed he goes about freeing Red from his own stupidity. It had to be a talent at this point. Who fell into their chair ass up after getting startled? </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“oh ya and yer a fuckin’ genius are ya?” Red scoffs as he falls with an audible ‘clunk’ as his head makes friends with the floor. “christ we need some goddamn carpets.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He cradles his head as Edge rolls his eyes, waving the tux in front of his eyes. “CARPETS ARE TACKY. AND YOUR TASTE WOULD BE </span>
  <em>
    <span>ATROCIOUS. </span>
  </em>
  <span>NOW CHANGE.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“‘m jus’ sayin’ bro</span>
  <em>
    <span> carpets,” </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“</span>
  </em>
  <span>THEY WON’T SAVE YOU FROM YOUR OWN STUPIDITY. ONLY YOU CAN STOP IT.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“don’t fuckin’ quote the bear at me.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“THEN STOP SUGGESTING STUPID THINGS. NOW CHOP CHOP, OR WE’LL LEAVE YOU BEHIND.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“don’t wanna fuckin’ go anyway.” Red grumbles even as he stands up, hands snatching at the garment bag as he shoos his younger brother out. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The door slams behind him. Rolling his eyes, Edge makes way for his own room, Red was such a dramatic. People thought </span>
  <em>
    <span>he </span>
  </em>
  <span>was bad, but he’d learned from the best. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>All throughout the halls of the penthouse Edge can hear the others rushing to get ready. Doing last minute touch ups, or small, inconsequential jokes to make the stress of the hour less apparent. Stress because of the fact that despite a majority of them liking to interact with people, it was terrible to interact with people who could more often than not be described in a single word: snob. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Smoothing out his tux Edge finishes up his own last minute touches. Which, in this case is a quick swing by the kitchen to pour himself a quick glass of wine, as the others scramble to make it to the den. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He pauses in his sipping to look them all over. “YOU GET SO MUCH AS A SMUDGE ON THOSE AND I WILL END YOU. DO I MAKE MYSELF CLEAR?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Half of them just huff in agreement while the others offer up a far too chipper answer of affirmation. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Settling the finished glass into the sink Edge grabs onto Razz’s arm to lead the pack to the limousine waiting out front. They still had to pick up everyone else’s “dates” for the night. A potentially homicide inducing task, if one was to ask Edge at least. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>***</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Slim leans against the limousine in an awkward magazine pose that Edge almost feels bad about laughing where he’s standing next to him. Almost. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Slim splutters against the car to pout at him, “stop laughin’!” Slim’s eye sockets are wide, blank, terrified, and Edge feels himself soften up over the sight. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“YOU’RE GOING TO BE JUST FINE,” Edge assures him, amused quirk never leaving his face. He’d been elected to greet the new “date” with Slim tonight over Razz due to his proclivity to get a bit insensitive when it came to people he deemed unfitting of interacting with his brother. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They’d seen more people run away crying than actors in a Rom-Com after a misunderstanding. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The door from the apartment in front of them closes carefully and Edge nearly topples over again in his effort not to laugh at the consciously-awkward attempt at keeping his gaze as casual. He </span>
  <em>
    <span>knew </span>
  </em>
  <span>this monster.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“How...dy,” Grillby breathes, green flames crackling into a far deeper purple at the sight of Slim. He nearly slips as he gets to the sidewalk, flame turning completely purple when he rights himself.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Oh, Edge would </span>
  <em>
    <span>kill </span>
  </em>
  <span>Razz if he tried any sneaky shit tonight. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The corner of Slim’s mouth quirks up in a shy smile, his own flush present. “hey.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Edge clears his non-existent throat when they clearly get caught up in some kind of trance. “I TAKE IT YOU’RE READY?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Huh?” Is chorused from them both as they blink, two individual fingers point at their chest in inquiry. They both look like Edge has just broken a millennium old spell. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Edge huffs. “YES. YOU TWO. ARE YOU READY?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Ready for…” Grillby trails off in an unfinished question, his gaze firmly affixed to the flush on Slim’s skull, endearingly unfocused. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Edge quirks a brow. “O-KAY, NONE OF THAT!” He inserts himself between the two to clap in their faces, loud enough to startle them out of a second trance. “I GET THAT HE’S A LOT RIGHT NOW,” He directs to Grillby. “BUT HE NEEDS YOU TO BE DOWN ON EARTH INSTEAD OF THE CLOUD’S.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>With visible effort and a return of the bright purple Grillby averts his gaze, hand resting on his neck abashed. “Sorry, ‘bout that…” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“LET’S TRY THAT AGAIN.” Edge says with a clap of his hand to get their gazes back from the floor, or the walls, or wherever the fuck they shunted them off to. “ARE YOU BOTH READY?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The “yes” is also chorused together on accident and with a shake of his head Edge goes back to sit in the limo. Crossing his leg at the knee he yanks Razz down, “YOU SO MUCH AS TRY AND </span>
  <em>
    <span>SCARE HIM OFF </span>
  </em>
  <span>AND I WILL DESTROY YOU.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Razz just sends him a confused look, or at least, he does until Slim about dislocates his shoulder from the socket in his attempt to hurry back into the car after Grillby probably </span>
  <em>
    <span>smiles </span>
  </em>
  <span>at him. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“OH, CHRIST,” Razz whispers and Edge tightens his grip on his shoulder when he leans forward. He sends a harried look his way, “WHAT DO YOU MEAN DON’T SCARE HIM OFF?!” He hisses, surprisingly falling quieter with each word. “DO YOU THINK I WANT </span>
  <em>
    <span>HIM </span>
  </em>
  <span>GETTING ADDED TO THE FAMILY.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Edge sends him a smile that shows off the razor tip of his teeth as he forces Razz to stay in his seat. “DON’T TEST ME. I WILL TAKE YOUR ARM.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Farther down in the car, and blissfully unaware of the potential heart attack Razz is going to go through is Slim and Grillby, interacting like two high schoolers. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“what do you think?” Slim asks, nervous, dopey smile in place. Once more Edge has to drag Razz back into his seat when he hisses a quick, (“I DON’T CONDONE SUCH BEHAVIOR! IF THEY START GETTING HANDSY I WILL POUR WATER ON HIM!”) as if Slim wasn’t grown and very capable of knowing who he liked and who he didn’t. Of course, that’s why the rest of them were here. “how do i look?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>For a moment Grillby doesn’t blink, his gaze a million miles away before another bright burst of purple erupts from him, so high it licks at the top of the car. He coughs, his words almost crackling in time with his flames, “Good… you look good.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Edge levels a pointed look at Razz, waving a hand at them. “GET THE STICK OUT OF YOUR ASS AND LET THEM FIGURE THEIR SHIT OUT.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“yeah, you bein’ an antagonizer ain’t goin’ to do shit for ya,” Stretch pipes up, never looking up from his phone. He, as always, was going as a ‘single pringle’ as he called it. Because he refused to do something as stupid as what they were. “an’ if we’re bein’ extra honest tonight. you’da tried throttlin’ ‘im either way.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I WOULD NOT HAVE!” Razz says indignantly, arms crossing over his chest moodily and Edge pats his cheek like he might a child. Or he does until Razz tries to fucking bite them like a heathen. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Stretch doesn’t even look up from his scrolling as he hollers at Grillby. “tell ‘im somethin’ else. no holds barred i know ya can do it grillbz.” Because it was the Grillby from his universe. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>For a dreadful moment of silence several excited heads turn to watch as one scowls with the intensity of a thousands suns. Grillby’s hands smooths out his suit as he looks far away from Slim, “You’re looking as expensive as 100 packs of wagyu hot dogs,” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Edge covers his face falling into his seat. Besides him Razz drags his own gloved clawed hand down his face as Stretch just imitates a projectile crash. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I GIVE UP.” Razz mumbles cradling his skull in shame. “YOU RAISE A BABYBONES AND HE BLUSHES FROM A… A </span>
  <em>
    <span>COMMENT </span>
  </em>
  <span>AS TERRIBLE AS THAT. WHERE DID I GO WRONG?” He finishes bemoaning. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Slim’s mouth is twisted up in a stupidly endeared smile and Edge feels like he’s about to vomit. He agrees with Razz for once that was </span>
  <em>
    <span>terrible. </span>
  </em>
  <span>“‘m that </span>
  <em>
    <span>sizzlin’ </span>
  </em>
  <span>huh” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“FUCKING DUST ME.” Razz requests still not looking up. “SOMEONE GIVE ME MERCY. I WILL HAVE A FUCKING </span>
  <em>
    <span>ANUERYISM </span>
  </em>
  <span>IF I HAVE TO WITNESS ANY MORE OF THIS.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Edge slings an arm around his shoulders. “REVENGE.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I HATE YOU. I HOPE YOU FALL DURING THE DANCE. AND SPILL CHAMPAGNE ON YOUR SUIT.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“NEWSFLASH DUMBASS YOU’RE MY PARTNER FOR THE PARTY. LIKE EVERY OTHER PARTY.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“CAN WE SWITCH?” He asks, and it almost sounds desperate. “STARS SOMEONE SWITCH WITH ME BEFORE I COMMIT A HOMICIDE.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Someone tell me he’s joking,” Tiffany, Red’s date of the night asks. A pretty woman, dressed in an all black mermaid dress that actually looks nice with her red mane of hair. She squeezes Red’s arm, an almost terrified note to her voice. “He’s joking right?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You’ll be just fine toots,” Cassandra, Blue’s date and beard for the night pipes up. Dressed in her own tuxedo, her smile turns inviting, “If ya get too scared though, feel free ta stick with me. Bean bag over there’ll just laugh.” She even winks and it’s enough to get the other woman to laugh, her grip relaxing. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“a’right a’right now we had a deal,” Red says an amused twist to his mouth. His arm moves to rest around the woman’s shoulder, careful to never pull her in case she wants space. “ya said ya’d stop flirtin’ wit’ people i bring wit’ me.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Cassandra flutters her lashes. “Did I?” She taps a filled nail to her chin. “I don’t remember promising such a thing, and it’s not my fault there’s such a pretty lady sittin’ across from me.” Tiffany tithers to herself, a soft pink across her cheeks. “Ya don’t treat ‘em nice enough, and there’s plenty of me.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“yeah, yeah we know yer full of yerself,” Red says with a fond scoff. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“WE’RE HERE,” Blue announces to the rest of them moments later, Cassandra’s arm slipping into his own easily. “EVERYONE READY?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>With a wrinkle of his nose bridge Edge nods, releasing his grip on the collar of Razz’s collar. “I’LL KEEP THIS ONE UNDER CONTROL.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“STRETCH?” Blue inquires, reaching across the car to pat his brother’s shoulder when Stretch’s leg starts to jog at a speed that could break the sound barrier.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He drags in a long breath, stuffing his phone into his slacks. “absolutley fucking not,” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Red knocks their shoulders together. “hey hey hey none o’that. yer somethin’ else.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Stretch turns to him with a bluster of a laugh, a nervous sweat on his brow, “an’ what’s that?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“you’re more intelligent, hotter, sure as hell funnier, and put together than any o’the fuckos in there…” Red knocks their shoulders together again, grin as bloodthirsty as a shark’s. “‘sides, who else has got their own bowling team to fuck people up for ‘em?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Stretch laughs, pushing back at Red’s shoulder with his hand. “that’s the </span>
  <em>
    <span>dumbest </span>
  </em>
  <span>way anyone’s tried to hype me up before.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“well it fuckin’ worked didn’t it? yer grinnin’!” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Rolling his eyes Stretch nods, his shoulders noticeably more relaxed, “yeah ya dunce head… let’s go.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The first floor of the large hall looks warm and bustling, workers going from table to table to offer champagne or take orders, all visible through the tall glass windows, but their group enters through a side door that takes them up a flight of stairs to an even more extravagant second floor. There they check their coats, and the din of conversation and clinking glassware greet them like an old friend. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>As is polite, they take a moment to take in the room and without pause Edge and Razz break away from the rest of the group before they’re cornered and then sequestered into a corner for conversations they don’t want to participate in. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>As they make their way through the second floor, there are several dozen or so round tables scattered throughout the room, and they make their way to the nearest waiter to start drinking. If they had to deal with these people they were going to get a little buzzed. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“TONGUE AT THE READY?” Razz asks, the line of his shoulders deceitfully calm with Edge’s arm looped in his. They both hated coming to these events for various reasons, but they’d rather put up with one another than some stranger. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Heads start to turn in their direction. It starts as just one or two curious sets of eyes, but then escalates into a whole group looking, which prompts another to swivel in their direction. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Edge puffs out his chest, sockets lidding as he gives the onlookers a glance over his shoulder. They were a sight to see and while they were only—</span>
  <em>
    <span>and would only be</span>
  </em>
  <span>—platonic it was still a riveting experience to be looked at with such envy. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The fact that they found Razz attractive at all was laughable. He was a fucking gremlin and Edge would sooner push him into a freezing tub of water than compliment him. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“WHO DO YOU THINK I AM?” He scoffs. “SOME ICOMPETENT INDIVIDUAL FROM SEEKING ARRANGEMENTS?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Razz’s shoulders shake with the willpower to keep his laughter in. “OF COURSE NOT. YOU LOOK LIKE SOMEONE ON THE VERGE OF A POWER RUSH LIKE A GREENHORN.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“OH, SWEET, SWEET DUMBASS OF MINE, IT ISN’T MY PROBLEM THAT PEOPLE ENVY ME,” He gestures to himself. “AFTER ALL, WHAT ABOUT THIS ISN’T PERFECT?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“YOUR PERSONALITY.” Razz replies without missing a beat, a hand grabbing a new flute of champagne for himself and Edge. Edge just rolls his eyes, an amused twist to his mouth. “AND THEY’RE LOOKING AT THE </span>
  <em>
    <span>BOTH </span>
  </em>
  <span>OF US.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“WE DO LOOK INCREDIBLE,” Edge amends, because alone they do look good. Together? They look powerful. It was why they pulled this ruse off so well even without breaking boundaries that were plain uncomfortable. People always comment on it, they look complementary, cohesive, and it was why they kept up with it. Though, they always made sure to correct people when they could. “IT’S MOSTLY ME THOUGH OF COURSE. YOU’RE MY ARM PIECE.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“OH, I AM?” Razz laughs and his shoulders even out as they ease into something a little more normal. These events just weren’t for them. Sure, they were boisterous, loved compliments, but the people here weren’t people they’d interact without outside of necessity. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Serif!” They hear only a moment later, and Razz winces as they turn to face an over-eager face waving them over. Edge’s own expression follows suit soon after, as he forces a painful smile onto his face. Razz looks like he’s just swallowed a lemon.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“AND IT BEGINS,” Edge mutters, straightening up to his full height, now matching Razz’s own height from the hell of his shoes. If someone brought it up tonight he might stab them with a fork.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They make their way over to a table of four, their expressions flattening out into a placid politeness when they recognize a few unsavory faces.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“A GOOD NIGHT I HOPE GENTLEMEN,” He tilts his head in acknowledgement of the two women next to them, who look absolutely </span>
  <em>
    <span>bored </span>
  </em>
  <span>out of their minds. And Razz can’t say he blames them. Neander and Thal were about as interesting as watching paint dry. “LADIES. Their faces brighten up when they’re actually addressed.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Edge tries to give them more than a resting bitch face. “A good night, yourselves!” One of the women says, moving to entangle herself on his arm and squeeze gently. It doesn’t make his hackles rise. And Edge was always one to trust his instincts. “We’re glad to see you made it.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“And you of course,” The other woman pipes up, kindly sending a smile Razz’s way. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Not going to just dine and dash are you?” Neander scoffs from beside her. Edge narrows his sockets, in the nicest glare he can manage. He has a sycophantic smile plastered on his face, his black hair slicked back with enough grease that it could be considered an oil spill.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Razz’s smile shows off the points of his teeth, even as he otherwise offers up something courteous. “OF COURSE NOT, DO WE LOOK LIKE THE SORT.”And he doesn’t miss the way that these same men gave them both an obvious look over like every time they met at these things. It would never be a surprise if it came out that they were hiding their interest in other men. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Edge bares his teeth when Thal stares too long. “MY EYES ARE UP HERE.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It’s a shame you always come with this lump of coal,” Neander sighs, winding the woman in green back onto his arm. Edge doesn’t miss the twitch of disdain on her face. “There’s got to be someone more worth your time.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I HAVE STANDARDS,” Edge says simply, his smile fake. “BESIDES, IT ISN’T LIKE THAT AND YOU KNOW IT. KEEP YOUR FISHING TO YOURSELF BEFORE YOU REEL IN A SOMETHING TOO LARGE.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Neander works a muscle in his jaw, until he has a grimace. “Perhaps you should have another drink then, to loosen up.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I AM PERFECTLY CONTENT WITH WHAT I’VE ALREADY HAD. I’LL PASS.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I insist,” He pushes, grimace twitching into a smile that’s no less ugly. “How else will you enjoy the event if you don’t let your walls down?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“AND I SUGGEST YOU TAKE THE NO FOR WHAT IT IS.” Edge returns just as easily, catching a scuttering movement from the corner of his eye that looks suspiciously like Stretch. He pats, Razz’s arm. “I’LL GET YOU A DRINK THOUGH, IF YOU’D LIKE?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“SCOTCH.” Razz says in answer as his own grin promising murder doesn’t disappear. “TAKE YOUR TIME.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Edge heads down the route he’s pretty certain he just saw Stretch dash down fast enough to give the blue hedgehog a run for his money, easily navigating through the throngs of conversing people, and locating him easily enough. He was one of the only people out on the balcony. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He startles when Edge sidles next to him, resting a hand on the bar. He looks relieved when he notices who it is, “christ, i thought the creep was still after me.” Stretch peeks his head over Edge’s shoulder his shoulders sagging like a deflated bag, “fuck, it is just you— fuck, i— edge they </span>
  <em>
    <span>creeped </span>
  </em>
  <span>me out.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Edge’s expression turns murderous when he actually looks over the other monster. Stretch’s sockets are blown wide, his lapels uneven and ruffled in a way they definitely </span>
  <em>
    <span>shouldn’t </span>
  </em>
  <span>be. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“WHAT DID THEY LOOK LIKE?” Is what comes out instead of everything else in his mind. Carefully he goes about fixing Stretch’s tux, hiding him behind his temporarily larger body. Stretch was quiet, it was no wonder he chose the get the fuck out route over direct confrontation—that’s what the rest of them were for. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Stretch flicks a nervous look over his shoulder again. Edge squeezes his shoulder, waiting until the other monster looks at him. “YOU KNOW I WOULD SOONER STAB A BITCH THAN LET SOMETHING LIKE THAT HAPPEN AGAIN.” At the quick raises of Stretch’s hands to dissuade him tacs on, “OR WE CAN SIMPLY REPORT THEM TO SECURITY.” Despite the fact that Edge really wants to put a body in a dumpster.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Stretch deflates. “‘m not feelin’ so bubbly,” It’s only then that Edge notices the empty glass in his hand. Oh he was going to commit </span>
  <em>
    <span>murder. </span>
  </em>
  <span>“i uh, i’d feel a bit better jus’ y’know putin’ some real </span>
  <em>
    <span>distance</span>
  </em>
  <span> right about now.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“STRETCH,” He warns, and his tone is still far softer than he’d usually have it, but these people were </span>
  <em>
    <span>important </span>
  </em>
  <span>to him (not that he’d ever admit it easily) and he’d rather make sure the bastard was banned (or, more preferably killed) than let Stretch go back in and be nervous. “JUST TELL ME WHAT THEY LOOK LIKE. I WILL REPORT THEM FOR YOU. WE CAN FIND A TABLE TO SIT AT AND YOU CAN DESTROY MY ASS AT YU-GI-OH.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Stretch blinks up, an almost incredulous quality to it that Edge would typically be offended by. He could share interests with people! “are… you’re sure?” He asks with a squint,  his eye lights half the size they normally are. “you uh, you ain’t goin’ to shank the guy in secret or nothin’ jus’... no </span>
  <em>
    <span>skullkin’ </span>
  </em>
  <span>about?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Edge gives him a withering look— but Stretch giggles at his own terrible pun, so he’ll let it slide this once. “DO I LOOK LIKE I SKULK TO YOU?’’</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“nah,” he giggles, and Edge notes the way his shoulders have relaxed, the way his soul has calmed down enough to no longer be visible under his tux. “you’re more of a stab first question later kinda guy,” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“THERE’S THAT BRAIN OF YOURS,”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“workin’ at no extra charge,” Stretch says waving his phone about. Edge rolls his eyes, his nose bridge wrinkling in distaste even as Stretch laughs to himself. Then quieter, a hand grabbing Edge’s wrist. “you’ll really jus’ report ‘im? no tellin’ blue or god forbid </span>
  <em>
    <span>red.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>If he and Razz could be described as getting on like a house fire then Stretch and Red could be described as Marc Antony and Pussyfoot from Looney Tunes. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I ASSURE YOU— NO ONE WILL MURDER HIM,” Stretch heaves a silent sigh of relief. Edge just huffs a mild laugh. “NOR WILL THERE BE ANY TORTURE, EVEN IF IT IS PERHAPS WELL MEANT. NOT A HAIR ON HIS HEAD WILL BE HARMED, BUT HE WILL BE BLACKLISTED, REVEALED, AND WE’LL LET THE OTHER PEOPLE HERE DEAL WITH HIM.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“FAIR?” He continues, plucking the empty glass from Stretch’s fingers to place it onto a tray.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“yeah,” Stretch breaths, taking complete advantage of the fact that Edge was taller than him right now to hide. “i jus’ y’know don’t want to cause a scene.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“STRETCH.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“hmm?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“SOME CREEP MESSES WITH YOU I WANT YOU TO DO YOUR BEST IMPRESSION OF ME AFTER SEVEN SANGRIAS AT KARAOKE.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Silence.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A snort. Quiet, growing louder until Stretch’s entire body weight is being moved by Edge. “you… you want me… to go batshit?” He snorts, grin wide as he thinks of the few times Edge has really gone wild. “hysterical like a florida man headline?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“DON’T FORGET </span>
  <em>
    <span>LOUD.” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Edge reminds him, steering him toward the bar for a quick trip, “VERY, LOUD, IF IT DOESN’T HURT THE EARS YOU’RE NOT DOING IT RIGHT.” Stretch just laughs louder. “AS I ALWAYS SAY—DON’T BE A FUCKING COWARD.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>His hand is curled around Stretch’s elbow to keep him from collapsing against the bar as he orders an Ardbeg that he’d eventually pass off to Razz.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“THE SOON TO BE LIMP-DICK. SPILL.” Edge says casually, countenance at ease as he imagines several ways he could kill a man.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“‘s more like dick whistle,” Stretch says with a ghost of a smile. He doesn’t even glance over his shoulder. “short. like really short,”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“TILT YOUR HEAD DOWN KING, HE’S BELOW EYE LEVEL,” Is said without missing a beat, and if Stretch’s choked laughter got any more violent Edge might consider taking him to the hospital.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>His eyes scan through the crowd. The extra inches really helped in being able to look down on people. Literally. It was one of his favourite hobbies.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>There weren’t too many short individuals. Short meant around Blue or Comic’s height, and so far he’s only seen a handful. None that overtly screamed creep either… but uber-rich and spoilt?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Oh Edge could see suspect number one from the bar.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“RED JACKET,” Edge inquires.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“huh?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“DID HE HAVE A RED JACKET.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“oh… yeah yeah— gold shirt. uh, brown hair— i don’t know maybe it’d be better to drop it—“ he starts to ramble, a nervous sweat starting up. “keep from pokin’ the bear an’ all y’know? just get the drinks, play some games, know when to </span>
  <em>
    <span>fold </span>
  </em>
  <span>‘em?” He finishes with a nervous tint to his laugh.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“WOULD YOU FEEL BETTER SITTING SOMEWHERE ELSE WHILE I REPORTED HIM?” Edge offers, gently, far softer than he’d ever normally be. “OF COURSE I’D JUST AS GLADLY GIVE HIM A REAL SPINE-BREAKER.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Stretch swallows, his eye lights glancing about. He nods.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“i’d, uh, prefer to sit this one out if ya don’t mind.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“RAZZ IS THE LAST TABLE ON THE NORTH WALL. TALK CIRCLES AROUND THE PIGS WILL YOU?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Stretch beams tipping a non-existent hat his way. “ya can count on me to chatter someone’s ears off about nonsense,” He pauses considering, squeezing Edge’s shoulder after a moment of debate. “...thanks.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“for going to look for me,” Stretch expands when Edge gives him a quizzical look. “i uh, i was kinda more focused on gettin’ the hell outta that than focusing on anything else,” His shoulders hunch, a lopsided grin forming. “don’t really know how i’d react if you— or one of the others hadn’t gone for me.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>After a pause as he contemplates Edge nods. “IF YOU’D LIKE WE CAN LEAVE EARLY,” He says his voice deceitfully calm, but after more than a year Stretch can pick up the hint of anger, the way a sneer threatens to take over. It makes him smile. “IF A DISTRACTION IS NEEDED WE ALL KNOW I HAVE NO SHAME.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“i think we’re good chief.” Stretch laughs, plucking the glass of scotch from his hands. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“A REAL SHAME, WELL ALL KNOW I LIKE TO CAUSE PROBLEMS ON PURPOSE.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>***</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>When Stretch makes his way over to the table, only the twitch of Razz’s brow gives away his confusion, and he’s more than a little amused to see Blue here. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Setting the drink down he forces himself in between the two older monsters, getting barely a grumble in return. Because the world ‘table’ was really an understatement when this is a certified </span>
  <em>
    <span>booth.</span>
  </em>
  <span> It feels comfortable to be bracketed between people (anytime for him, best way to avoid interaction) and not on the outskirts. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“EDGE DINE AND DASH?” Razz inquires evenly, shoulders relaxed as Stretch notes that it really is just their group here.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Huh, Razz must have already scared them off.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“nah, just a little hangup.” He replies, and it’s the truth. Blue tilts his head curiously from his other side but doesn’t push. “what’d i miss while mingling?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“ME RESTRAINING RAZZ,” Blue says with a quirk to his mouth. He looks far more smug than usual. He motions with his hand toward the part of the floor that’s more open than the rest— the ‘dancing area’ as they liked to refer to it. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Stretch squints leaning forward. He whistles soon after, digging his elbow into Razz’s side ignoring the glower shot in return. “well well well look who’s havin’ fun!” He crows wiggling his brow-bone in a way that gets Blue to snort. Razz on the other hand directs a placid smile his way, eye lights narrowed into pinpricks that promised murder. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>His chuckling turns nervous as he sets an arm around Razz’s shoulders with a harried look sent to his own brother to communicate: </span>
  <em>
    <span>what the fuck do we do to keep a monster from dying?</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And of course Blue in all his glory says this, aloud, “I THINK THEY LOOK QUITE NICE.” Stretch’s head falls to the back of the booth as he feels Razz physically twitch under his arm. “HE MIGHT NOT HAVE LIPS BUT IF HE GOES FOR I THINK THEY’D BE CUTE.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“OH YES AND THEN THE CRETIN WILL BE EATING THE SIDE OF THE LIMO.” Razz hisses back.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>All Blue does is laugh—the sound warm and loud as he props his chin on his hand, looking over at Slim with a distinctly older-sibling way that looks both ecstatic and like he can’t wait for something to go terribly wrong. Because even if Slim was a different version of Papyrus (one from a world that would definitely try to eat him for breakfast) he was still a Papyrus.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“DON’T YOU THINK IT’S SWEET?” He says instead of goading Razz on. Blue even sighs and Stretch groans. He’d forgotten how much of a romantic his brother could be—this was going to be terrible. “THEY’RE SO CLUMSY, THEY’VE BEEN BLUSHING ALL NIGHT. I THINK SLIM </span>
  <em>
    <span>REALLY </span>
  </em>
  <span>LIKES HIM.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“IF YOU DON’T SHUT UP I WILL PHYSICALLY TEAR YOUR SPINE AWAY FROM THE REST OF YOU.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“BUT LOOK AT THEM!” Blue protests making large hand gestures with his relatively short frame. Razz’s expressions sours even more as Stretch makes the smart decision to scooth just a little away from him. “GRILLBY HASN’T BEEN ABLE TO SWITCH BACK TO GREEN FOR A WHOLE HOUR!” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“bro,” Stretch starts, a bit of desperation in his voice to get noticed.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“AND HE’S BUSINESS SAVVY RAZZ!” Blue continues on as if he’d never heard Stretch speak up. He honestly, didn’t doubt that he hadn’t, Blue could get into his own world sometimes. “SLIM ACTUALLY </span>
  <em>
    <span>PARTICIPATED </span>
  </em>
  <span>IN A CONVERSATION!” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“bro i uh, i think ya should stop.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“AND SOME OF THE FOOD WAS—” His skull scrunches up in distaste. “—ABSOLUTELY TERRIBLE. THE SOUP? WHO WANTS </span>
  <em>
    <span>COLD </span>
  </em>
  <span>SOUP? IT PERHAPS ISN’T THE MOST ROMANTIC THING, BUT GRILLBY DEFINITELY TRIED TO SHOW OFF.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Something snaps beside him. With a nervous glance Stretch sinks into his seat at the way Razz’s teeth grind. He wasn’t a romantic, didn’t really believe in it and out of all of them, he was the one that Stretch was pretty certain would absolutely cause a scene because he had a roaring superiority complex that spread to his brother. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“sooo what happened to cassandra?” Stretch pipes up nervously, his voice going a little high on the end to stress (hah) just how stressed he was as well as to make it clear that this is a </span>
  <em>
    <span>desperate </span>
  </em>
  <span>question. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Two heads snap to look at him. One head peering down at him from the ridge of their nose like he was a chihuahua shaking in the wind while the other peered up, a beam of a smile slowly trickling away into concern. Two, very odd matching faces of concern.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“PAPY?” Blue asks and belatedly Stretch realizes that he has a stress blush. Bright as a traffic cone and he sinks even further into his seat, uncaring of the way his short ruffles up out of his slacks. “WHAT’S WRONG?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“nothin’! nothin’! at all!” He denies eye lights firmly shifting over to the wall. The plain, old wall. He felt hot. Was he hot? There was sweat on the back of his spine and he wondered if he was close to passing out from saying something stupid. “i just think it’d be a </span>
  <em>
    <span>grand </span>
  </em>
  <span>idea to divert this situation into something completely not focused on two people in a terribly close vicinity.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>RUNT,” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Oh that’s Razz. Using the ‘aloof-older-brother’ tone that made his non-existent nerves flare up like he was having a fibro’ episode. So. Not great. “YOU’RE A FUCKING TERRIBLE LIAR.” Which fair. “IF YOU’RE GOING TO TRY AND CHANGE THE SUBJECT DON’T GO THROUGH PUBERTY AGAIN.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Which in hindsight is a really terrible way of saying Razz was concerned about him, but he digresses. “uh… y’know i think maybe ‘m just goin’ to go,” Stretch tries to slip out of the chair and then promptly trips falling onto his face in his rush to dash back over to Edge because that seemed like a safer bet. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Edge was a younger brother. Had to deal with Red—oh christ there he was…</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“okay bye!”  He yelps before taking a shortcut as Razz’s hand reaches for the collar of his shirt. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And then promptly lands back on his feet with as tumble and shaky legs as he about careens into Edge’s back. It’s still on the second floor, lights still gaudy as hell and smelling like way too much sage, but he is away from the Trio-Of-Trigger-Fingers so Stretch considers that a win. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“hey…” He says leaning his arm against the wall to seem as casual as possible when Edge straightens him out. He still felt warm. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Edge gives him a bland look, arms crossed over his chest. “YOU RAN AWAY.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“like a cat gettin’ chased by a mouse,” A pause as the sentence comes back to him, Edge’s brow quirking in amusement. Stretch leans his head against the wall. “fuck.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“AND, WHAT CAUSED THE DECISION TO RUN AWAY?” Edge inquires politely but the amusement is thick in his tone.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>haaa…” Stretch breathes. “a terrifying mixture of alcohol, anxiety and the desperate realization that i am john mulaney,” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Edge squints down at him. “ARE YOU… GOING TO ELABORATE ON THAT?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>His shoulders slump as Stretch rests his full-body weight against the wall, his voice muffled because of the fact that he was plastered up against the wall. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“i walk down the street and i need everybody, all day long, to like me so much. It’s exhausting. i am walking around running for mayor of nothing,” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“YOU REALIZE THAT I AM NEVER GOING TO LET YOU LIVE THAT DOWN NOW, RIGHT?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“not while i’m alive, yes.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“SO. YOU RAN OFF LIKE A CHICKEN WITHOUT ITS HEAD BECAUSE YOU’RE AS PLASTERED AS A WALL—” Stretch snorts not even bothering to open his mouth to protest. It’s true after all and after living in the same place for a year, Edge knew his tells. “—AND LET SOMETHING SLIP.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“slim and grillbz. dancing. close quarters. might have had a sip or two of razz’s scotch and derailed when blue went all mooney-eyed.” He goes completely slack against the wall, nearly clattering onto the floor if not for Edge catching the collar of his tux. “no just let me waste away here. it’s simpler.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I SAY THIS WITH ALL THE RESPECT I HAVE FOR YOU—WHICH GRANTED ISN’T A TON.” Which is completely fair. Stretch had absolutely none of the qualities that Edge looked for in regards to more than bare-minimum respect. “YOU’RE QUITE COWARDLY, CAN’T HOLD A KNIFE PROPERLY AT ALL, AND IF SOMEONE DIDN’T WATCH YOUR HEAD YOU’D HAVE BLOWN IT OFF SEVEN DIFFERENT WAYS TO SUNDAY. HOWEVER, THAT DOESN’T MEAN I WILL TOSS YOU TO THE WOLVES.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Stretch pops open an eye socket. “what?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Edge sighs, holding him up in the air until Stretch manually straightens his legs and immediately puts him back down. “I WOULD BE OFFENDED BY ANYONE ELSE QUESTIONING MY INTENTIONS.” He blinks again, more rapidly. “I’M GOING TO TAKE YOU TO PUFF AND COMIC. THEY’RE LEAVING EARLY.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He surges forward. “i owe you one!” Because running away from his problems instead of confronting them? That was Stretch’s go through motto of life. Then, he pauses, “fuck… i did it again.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Edge rips him off like he weighs less than a soaked towel. “YES YES YOU DID. YOU KNOW THE TYPICAL FEE NOW COME ALONG BEFORE THE BOTH OF US HAVE TO REENACT SOME SILLY ACTION MOVIE.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And by that it’s more that Stretch is dragged along by the unyielding grip Edge has on his arm. It was much closer to stick close to the man who had no filter nor older brother instinct in this case.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>There was no need to have a man murdered tonight and then the </span>
  <em>
    <span>rest </span>
  </em>
  <span>of them go to jail for it. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>***</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“TAKE THIS ONE WITH YOU.” Edge says dropping Stretch who makes an ‘omph’ sound as his legs drop onto the marble floors in front of both Puff and Comic. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Puff’s brow bones rise so high they look like they may just fly off. “YOU DO LOOK A LITTLE… RUFFLED.” He says in his best impression of an old lady trying not to hurt his feelings. Stretch was very aware that he looked like a rumbled carcass. “IS EVERYTHING FINE?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“think we should wait ‘til home, pap.” Comic pipes up, sockets half-lidded and sleepy, as if he was more than ready to pass out on the couch. “seems like a </span>
  <em>
    <span>rough </span>
  </em>
  <span>night.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Stretch snorts. “uh, yeah. got a little too </span>
  <em>
    <span>buzzy,” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Edge’s face twists a bit at the avoidance of what it really was. Some amount of scotch undisclosed, who knows how many glasses of wine and whatever else. Stretch wasn’t typically a large drinker, but social events like this got his flight or fit in senses going. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>One typically won out over the other first. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“HE’LL PROBABLY COLLAPSE IN THE CAR.” Edge adds when the two more prone to picking up on hidden cues (Which was really laughable. They could be just as oblivious), fall silent. “AND IF YOU’D TEXT THE OTHERS FOR HIM. YOU KNOW THE DRILL FOR HANGOVERS.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“OH, YES OF COURSE!” Puff hurries to agree, the tension in his shoulders slowly disappointing. Next to him Comic shuffles to place a steadying hand on Stretch’s shoulder, moving in time with him. “PUT HIM ON HIS SIDE, PLENTY OF WATER AND NOTHING TO EAT UNTIL THE MORNING.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Edge nods a whistle of an exhale coming from his nose as he nudges Stretch forward. “I’LL KEEP THE IDIOTS HERE IN LINE.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Comic is the one that leads their third member along as Puff collects their coats. He has to strain his head to get Stretch to blink at him, “hey, bud you look real </span>
  <em>
    <span>drained, </span>
  </em>
  <span>you wanna share what’s got ya </span>
  <em>
    <span>swept </span>
  </em>
  <span>off your feet?” He cracks as they pass some of the custodial workers. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It gets a huff— quiet, subdued a far off imitation of Stretch’s usual gusto. It makes his brow furrow, a twist to his mouth that relays his actual concern. “bad night,” Stretch finally offers up after walking in silence, Comic awkwardly pats his shoulder. “nothin’ too bad y’know… justa guy that got too handsy, and we all know me ‘m not a </span>
  <em>
    <span>hands on </span>
  </em>
  <span>learner,” He even winks but it seems forced, drained.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“ya need an intervention?” Comic asks casually, almost eager he’d even say. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“SANS! WE JUST AGREED TO WAITING UNTIL HOME!” Puff chastises, hands on his hips and Stretch grins letting himself be dragged along to the limo. “AND WHAT EXACTLY WOULD YOU DO? TELL HIM TERRIBLE JOKES UNTIL HE LEFT?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“they can be a real </span>
  <em>
    <span>spine-breaker</span>
  </em>
  <span>, bro.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“SANS YOU’RE KILLING ME. YOU ARE KILLING YOUR BROTHER!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“it’d be a real pain to get the </span>
  <em>
    <span>dustpan</span>
  </em>
  <span> and </span>
  <em>
    <span>sweep </span>
  </em>
  <span>ya off yer feet.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Puff groans dragging a tired hand down the groove of his face. Not even dignifying that with a response he slips his phone out of his pocket to send off a text as they get into the limo.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>As much as the party was delightful we’ve decided to return early!!</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Stretch is also with us</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Unharmed!!</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Baja Blast</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Can you pease put papy on a call?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I’ve been trying since he dashed</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Razzalicious</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>On speaker</span>
</p><p>
  <span>So we know he’s alive</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Red’ll have an aneurysm if not</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>With the last message Puff scrambles to click on Blue’s contact, just about shoving the phone in Stretch’s face. He was </span>
  <em>
    <span>not </span>
  </em>
  <span>about to be the reason Red went batshit. It would be funny if Red’s special brand of personality didn’t involve extensive damage. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“hello?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“WHAT DOES EDGE MEAN BY HE JUST DROPPED YOU OFF?!” He pulls the phone away from his skull at the volume of his brother’s voice. And he didn’t even have </span>
  <em>
    <span>ears. </span>
  </em>
  <span>“HOW HURT ARE YOU? ARE YOU OKAY? DID YOU CRACK YOUR HEAD LIKE AN OMELETTE WHEN YOU SHORTCUTTED?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>What the fuck had Edge told them? </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“i uh, i ain’t dyin’?” It doesn’t even sound that convincing to him, let alone to Blue who turns into an overprotective bear almost as quick as Razz does. “that’s what yer concerned about right?” and the slurring was kicking in, which wasn’t great. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Next to him Comic coughs into his arm to try and cover up his laughter even as Stretch sits onto his side. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I AM CONCERNED ABOUT PLENTY OF THINGS—THE NOT DYING IS GOOD TO KNOW!—BUT IT IS MANY! THING!” He pulls the phone away from his head again. Stretch is pretty sure he heard grumbling that vaguely sounds like Red trying to snatch for the phone. “WAIT YOUR TURN, RED!” yeah, it was Red. “EDGE TOLD US YOU WANTED TO LEAVE, BUT YOU WERE REALLY NERVOUS PAPY I WANTED TO MAKE SURE YOU WERE OKAY,” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>On the other side of the line Blue keeps a gloved hand pressed against Red’s skull keeping the taller monster at bay as he sends Edge a look that clearly reads: </span>
  <em>
    <span>restrain him before I do. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>With a sigh Edge tugs Red back into the booth, passing a plate of chili dogs in front of him. “I WILL GIVE YOU THESE IF—”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“deal!” Why is he not surprised that food was enough to distract him?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He sends a bland look Blue’s way who’s back to chattering with his brother. They just had to last another hour and they would be in the home stretch. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“YOU’RE SURE YOU’RE OKAY? I RESPECT YOU AS AN ADULT AND YOUR DECISIONS BUT YOU’VE NEVER JUST RUN AWAY FROM ME PAPY,” Blue says quieter now and without turning his head Edge yanks Razz back into his seat.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“DON’T EVEN </span>
  <em>
    <span>THINK </span>
  </em>
  <span>ABOUT IT.” He says fingers curled into the back of his tux like a cat might grab a kitten’s scruff. The drone of Blue’s and Stretch’s talking continues on uninterrupted. “WE GET IT YOU DON’T CONDONE SUCH ‘INAPPROPRIATE BEHAVIOR RIGHT IN FRONT OF MY SALAD’”—Razz open’s his mouth to protest, but then ultimately shuts it at how spot on the impression is. He’d almost admit he was impressed—”I ASSURE YOU YOUR BROTHER IS FINE.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“IF THAT PIECE OF COAL EVEN TRIES TO PUT HIS HANDS WHERE HE DOESN’T WANT THEM—”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“YOU’LL LET </span>
  <em>
    <span>SLIM </span>
  </em>
  <span>DEAL WITH IT!” Edge spits out with a roll of his eyes. Really, sometimes Razz’s who shtick about superiority or Slim’s perceived damsel-in-distressness was enough for him to put his head willingly through drywall. “HE IS </span>
  <em>
    <span>GROWN. </span>
  </em>
  <span>LET HIM TRY AND DEAL WITH THINGS—IF HE GOES TO YOU FOR HELP THEN FINE—BUT I DON’T THINK HE’LL HAVE THAT PROBLEM RIGHT NOW.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Razz deflates in his seat looking all of an upset bulldog. “I’LL BUY YOU THAT REALLY NICE COAT?” He tries to bargain. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Edge bonks him on the head with his fist. “THAT ONLY WORKS WHEN </span>
  <em>
    <span>I </span>
  </em>
  <span>DO IT. SUCK IT UP BUTTERCUP YOUR BROTHER IS GROWN.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“yeah that’s a losin’ battle, ‘berry,” Red pipes up smirk across his face. Razz humphs in annoyance turning his head in the opposite direction. Edge feels like a single father of four and he’s not even that </span>
  <em>
    <span>old. </span>
  </em>
  <span>“me an’ boss here had our own squabble ‘bout shit like that—stop buttin’ in when he’s havin’ fun.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I JUST WISH HE’D HAVE BETTER STANDARDS THAN SOMEONE THAT TOLD HIM HE LOOKS LIKE EXPENSIVE HOT DOGS!” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>***</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The next morning Edge wakes up with a headache that could rival the destructive force of a magnitude eight earthquake. All due to someone—a soon to be </span>
  <em>
    <span>dead </span>
  </em>
  <span>someone—knocking on his door.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“WAKE UP LAZYBONES!” His socket slides open with enough malice for the person—Puff the fog brain recognizes after a moment, to take a deliberate step back, his voice still bright, but there’s a noticeable terseness to it. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“WE UH, WE HAVE THE TRIP?” He ventures, taking another step back when Edge doesn’t move. To Puff he probably looked like a dragon on a hoard of pretty things he’d destroy an arm for. “TOMORROW? THE ONE WE PLANNED A MONTH BEFORE HAND.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“GET OUT.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“RIGHT! YES! I WILL LEAVE YOU TO YOUR ROUTINELY REQUIRED SLEEP!” Despite that very vocal statement of leaving he doesn’t, instead Puff wrings his hands together. “... DON’T FORGET TO PACK YOUR BAG IN A BIT!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Edge throws a pillow at him and while there is a yelp, it isn’t from Puff.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“what the fuck was that for!” </span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Definitely smaller when compared to the first but it was funnily enough easier to write </p><p>I have a writing/headcanon blog, i guess?<br/><a href="https://little-guy-writes.tumblr.com/">the blog</a></p>
        </blockquote><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Ahhh, this is probably only going to have three chapter? And probably what I'll be focused on writing for a bit. Oh! And just as an idea of how big this penthouse is, it's a mix-mash of the Walker Tower Penthouse as well as the One Hundred Barclay penthouse. </p><p>I also have a headcanon/writing blog where i don't shut up<br/><a href="https://little-guy-writes.tumblr.com/">the blog</a></p></blockquote></div></div>
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